A STRANGE LITTLE BOY

July 13, 2004

They tell me as a tiny boy
I always loved the out of doors;
I laughed and showed the greatest joy
When Mother Tierra was my floor.
While others seemed to fuss and cry,
Unless held up in adult arms;
I found great interest in the sky,
The moon, the stars and all their charms.

I loved the clouds, the wind, the rain,
And lightning flashes, far and near,
Mom’s call to come inside was vain;
I was a child that had no fear.
I guess that even then I knew
That God, in charge of all those things,
Knew how to care for quite a few
Who loved to test His angels’ wings.

I played with bottles, stones and sticks;
They were people in my mind,
Sometimes I found them in a fix
That touched my heart and made me kind.
Sometimes I saw them as my foes,
A great array of mighty power,
Just waiting then to work me woes,
To bring me down to my last hour.

And then again ‘neath cloud-cast skies,
When flowers drooped with drippy pedals,
I scraped up dough to make mud pies,
As back drops for my great war medals;
Medals won with stones and sticks,
Fighting foes as fierce as I;
What victory a child can fix,
To show it on his own mud pie.

Oh that years had taught me how
To make the best of what I had;
To see the victory I know now,
And not the loss that looks so bad.
Once a man and twice a child;
A promise every man should cherish
For without faith as meek and mild,
The wisest man is sure to perish.