Sonnet #2

Sonnet #2

When once my father fell an oaken lord,
It fell upon my soul to hush a prayer,
I begged that God forgive our wooded hoard
And this my father noted in his stare.

He asked me why, when we have need, I weep.
And held my hand in his to bring the calm.
But sense, could I not in my passion keep,
And so, with pointed finger in my palm

Said gently, "God provides for us the seed,"
Then growing out his fingers as a tree:
"There's science in the water and the feed,
Philosophy's the reason you believe."

That night I dreamed of whittling a stool,
Three legs of oak, upon which Kings could rule.