Bill Hull-My Father

No sunrise sparkled brighter, No thunder clapped, No trumpet sounded at your birth. You were just born, Grew to live youth, To fish back country ponds, summer streams, Run roadways and highways like a deer, To work, to marry, Raise a family, Retire to loneliness, To find yourself Within yourself In back woods you loved. Your friends were trees, As were birds, and clouds and summer flowers And squash berries. When you were down, you looked up To her, your departed love and wife-Annie. Your joy was in a tenor voice to guitars, Kitchen sing -a- longs And cowboy yodeling. You knew not your time. No bugle sounded at your death, The world paid no respects But we wept there beneath tall trees and mountains, Where you were laid to rest, Where mother finally saw you home And peace was truly yours. Spruce trees, fish, clouds, ponds and streams Will all remember you…as I. W.C.Hull ©2000-2020-20-11-018