Thoughts on a Good Friend

This reflection was shared at the funeral of a good friend.

He was not afraid of anything;
He faced life with nothing in
his hand.
Old people, children, and dogs
felt safe around him.
He was a builder, impatient
with imperfection;
His temper flared sharing sparks
within
And more to know about this
interesting man.
He did things well or not at all.
Lucky are you who has anything
turned out by his hand.
He was patient in his work,
turning dull stones brilliant,
Discarding, cutting away and polishing
until the light
Caught and reflected the beauty
he had imagined.
Then he shared what he had created.
He was manly enough that he
didn’t hesitate to
Mention how the golden day lilies
stood out.
In front of the blue iris.
His interests encompassed the
ocean, sky and the land,
And he read and he learned more.
The earth produced for him
when he tilled it
And yielded up stones and artifacts
for his examination.
His humor could catch you unaware
Until you remembered what a
tease he was.
He was proud and deserved to be so,
And we are proud to have known him,
And sad that men like him are
so few.
His life was full of neighborly acts
and wonderfully generous.
His death weighs heavily upon us
Like Apache tears, grief turned to stone.