Our Gentle Mentor

by FREDERICK HAYES

As the younger members
Prepared for a summer of fun
The old man carried a scythe
Out to the verdant meadow
And stepping his way down
The glade and back he mowed
The long grass with a lithe grace
As the late spring sun sported
With a coastal breeze to gain
His gratitude and affection
Until having finished his task
Of clearing a space for folks
To play he took up his place
At the table’s head to hear
The plans his peers had made.