Poetry Corner

My Friend Harry’s Julkrubba Wood (Trees)

I don’t really know a lot about Harry, but I really do know him.
He spoke little, but said a lot; though it’s what he did that counts most.
Let me list a few memories here, lest unspoken they grow dim;
For Harry’s aura gently filled the room, but he was not one to boast.

Over the years at our little church, he’d sometimes offer a juicy dish.
Then he’d leave the kitchen, and use those hands to help build a home,
Habitat for Humanity: a fitting name for such a man, we might wish
Our own character could reflect so well the human genome.

Talk about your holidays! Saint Pat’s, Valentines, Christmas, and all
He’d come with those artist’s hands filled with many a trinket,

Wooden, beautifully hand-made, to decorate the tree, or wear to the ball,
Such treasures inspire many a use; all one need do is think it.

One such treasure: years ago, Harry made us a Nativity treat,
He said the Swedish was Julkrubba; he followed that tradition.
Teen grand-daughter saw “scene,” heard “Swedish”, ‘n said, Harry’s sure “sweet”.
But she was right: we could say being “sweet” was his mission.

Harry’s spirit will live in our hearts, and also surely in his art.
Our church Christmas tree will always display its little part.

Speaking of a tree and wood art reminds me of a familiar verse:
       “I think that I shall never see
       “A poem lovely as a tree.” Which inspires me to say:
       I think that I shall never see, Nor could there ever, even be
       A sweeter man than dear Harry.

— Joe Wetzel, Jan. 24, 2018