My Dad

Walking over the spiny carpet
Of carmel colored needles,
He beckons me to silent footsteps,
And, oh so softly, wheedles


Wheedles it into thinking something,
So remarkably untrue,
That we simply do not, CAN'T, exist,
As sure as the moon is blue.


He teaches me to walk in silence, seeing things I never saw. Hearing the language of animals, listening to them, learning of this place. Following their trails and pathways to the secret hollows of the woods. Stopping to feel the beauty of a racing brook, tumbling down a stony hill. Sometimes though, we're not so quiet! Man-made thunder rolls sharp through the trees. Little holes pepper a yellow baloney lid. Afterwards we scour the ground, searching for each .22 shell. We pick up the disrespectful litter of beer cans and burger bags. Left by those who do not care. So many times we've covered camp sites, trailing a plastic grocery bag. Picking up each little piece. "Anything larger than a dime" he says. He's teaching me to steward the land, and in doing so I learn so much. I learn to love and give my all, to care for all I meet. I find out who I am, and I know my Heavenly Father loves me. He's given me the tools I need to build my testimony. When I am in doubt, or troubled, I retreat to the place he has shown me, and I know that I am safe. He teaches me how to think. I see things in new perspectives. I would not be the person I am today without him. I wish he knew how much he has shaped me, that I respect him. I admire him. He is my hero.