Wise & Wonderful

3 comments
Poetry

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.


The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.


The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;–

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

“All Things Bright and Beautiful”

by Cecil Frances Alexander

* above photo:
taken by A Simple Country Girl along the riverside–after she stacked some little-bitty rocks


In preparation for our move, I am going through the pole barn and its shelved boxes. I found this well-loved poem nestled amid the yellowed pages of a book stashed in a box. A description the 1946 book reads, “poems of faith and courage, of nature and inspiration.” That poetry book was intermingled with assorted others of yesteryear–one hardback book with a hand-written 1901 note penned inside the cover; a lone schoolhouse reader; and many, many others… It got me to thinking of my husband’s grandpa, the remnants of a man whose dusty boxes I sorted this weekend.



Dusty boxes
remain
of a man.

Although born to a family
with farmer hands,
instead he heard the soldier’s call
and decided to leave the land.

After his passing
we took the papers,
pages, and books.
Mainly World War II
but other treasures
have been discovered too.

In the ground,
but with the Lord–
retired soldier,
white-haired man
left a legacy.

Not just in
Nebraska’s lonely homestead,
the one
he never even plowed
or in the son,
grandson,
& great-grandson
in whom he was so proud.

As I sort
and pack
and ponder,
I wonder
how the others
chose to
set aside

these dusty boxes
that remain
of a man.

Because of his books,
the very ones I now read–
with gentle hands
turning pages,
with eyes & heart
eager to see.

Even though our blood
crossed in marriage,
does mine carry a smidge
of his strength & courage?

As I read
I begin to see
his reflection in me.

He cherished the simple
and valued the honorable.
He would have boldly died for this land
if that were the card dealt his hand.

Dusty boxes
remain
of a man.

How could I
think of throwing out
his life,
his role in history,
his treasures.
All that he lined shelves with–
ever so diligently.

Dusty boxes
filled with life
remain
of a man.

He and I
connected now
by words
on pages bound.

As long as someone
remembers,
his legacy
lovingly marches on.

Dusty boxes
remain
of a man.


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3 thoughts on “Wise & Wonderful”

  1. How you take the time to reflect on someone else, with such honour, at this difficult and trying time for you, is inspiring. Blessings,deb

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