a quiet, gentle soul, whose spirit I feel in the forest,
this man, to whom conversation does not easily come ... or
perhaps he chooses simply not to converse, for what is the
point of an idle word? inside his heart, poetry flows
music in his veins, like the symphony of breeze through a
tree ... he follows the call of this restless wind,
a secret desire to write in the shade of an oak,
this passion shared with few ... chosen am I ...
to know this facet of his soul; the man who is
my father, who planted his seed and gave me life,
whose spirit I feel in the forest,
the man who passed to me
his gift of love,
by June Smith-Jefferies as printed in the book 'Stroll of Poets: the 1997 Anthology'
I love this poem because it reminds me so much of my own quiet, nature loving father.