The Master

Settling on the old stone at the foot of the back garden wall
dog at his side hands resting on the ash plant stick
from under the the skull cap of silver hair his eyes burn across the land
the Master surveys his apple trees in the dew drop morning shine
his footsteps through the silver hue on the dew kissed dawn grass
the cobwebs glisten on the ash tree plant he dug when the daughter was born
the swinging chair hangs idle now though someday a Grandaughter he prays.

He looks from the distance and catches the eye of his wife in the Kitchen,
32 years and still takes his breath. She smiles and he nods.
Nuzzled by the dog he strolls towards the wall he built over 20 years ago,
its shape is
looser now but he still feels pride as he runs his hands
over the rough edge of stone
He walks the land dog at his side, oh to be able to know what he thinks,
the Man that is your father , the master that is your tutor, such a gentle tutor What does he think for he says very little.

Drinking pints in silent company Mother tells of his delight.
Talking for hours of hurling and Football Mother tells of his delight.
collecting the Princess his night is complete
Walking alone on the banks with the dog he revels in simplicity.
Catching a sunset fall on the land that is his breaks a smile to his face.
But Jesus don't mention the rain

Slow with a bad word leave the bad story where you found it.
Quick with encouragement yet slow to stay on the phone.
"I'll get your mother', please stay on a while.
Pride at our achievements though maybe we didn't thank him
Oh to live like the master, simple is good, decency is better oh to tell
him we love him we
all think he knows but i hope he never has any doubts.
For the Master is what being a man is all about.

^