Be Frank
Small of stature, big of heart
born RIPE, full of meaning, mystery,
his twinkling eyes beguile, yet, continually seek…
Often looking down, ear cocked to garner as much as possible
mindful, this man shining in a majesty of kindness…
Gray of hair now, weak of eye,
yet, a power to be reckoned with, should his flock need.
Shaker of hands with shaking hands, palsy does not impede
luminous is the rheum of his elderly eyes.
Mischievous, his banter charms, cajoling the recalcitrant.
This baby cuddling father, this patron of the universal one.
May this life keep him long for the after life has no need, we do…
He stretches his wondering heart toward Wordsworth,
wandering toward Walden
savoring.
*Dedicated to my minister Frank
an Iridescent Man
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