He lives under the oaks,
    right where the Timber flows.
In a home he never made
    on the west edge of a field.

He builds memories with words,
    stories that take me back to old days.
There’s always something brewing,
    stashed away in some quiet corner.

This graybeard with flannel plaid,
    dependable as the sea.
A soul who’s balance remains firm,
    his kindness grows each year.

The house slows down,
    as each bird moves away.
They learned to fly there–
    his patience shaped their wings.

Look out earth!
    Keep watching you oaks!
Don’t forget to drop your leaves,
    Waba has a new year!

    ~ by Lee Zilligen