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by Denny and Caroline Lancaster 220612
A stalwart oak lay strewn,
across the forest once bare;
Yes the limbs were soon hewn,
but the trunk laid bare there.
Stacked cords of limbs for fire,
bundled into the hearth at day;
Soon of the labor we would tire,
while only sparks emitted a ray.
By the end of winter no wood,
but warmth in place of cold stood,
while our hearts lay cold still,
ventured outside against our will.
Trod paths once happy and gay,
listened with deaf ears to a sound,
found the oak trunk, but not bare,
there laying upon our forest ground.
Through glistening eyes a glimmer,
bathed in beauty of treasured earth,
butterfly's flutter around the trunk,
but one on our shoulder has a perch.
Ever more the miracle of God's creation,
escapes even our most determined summation;
But the butterfly's beauty and its grace,
cause our footsteps now to not make haste.
Footnote: Our granddaughter Isabella Rose who was four months old died of SIDS April 14, 2002. A few weeks after Caroline and this author were sitting on a log in the backyard of our
home just talking when we noticed a cluster of butterflys. We talked about how the butterfly to some indicated the departure of a soul to heaven and then we began to vocalize the lines which in
a short hour became Stalwart Oak.
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Josephine Wall-Artist.
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