19-12

He wasn’t so complicated, really,

this overgrown kid playing in the barn.

Once when he grew weary of listening

to my sophomoric agonizing,

he challenged me to a game of ping pong.

Who would have thought that this sly old fox had

so much game, as teenagers say today?

He was leading me, nineteen points to twelve,

when suddenly his forehand fell apart.

Taking advantage, I reeled off nine points

in a row and stormed back to victory.

Funny how beating him raised my spirits.

It never occurred to me that a man

of God might be willing to throw a game,

sacrifice himself, so to speak, for me.

When he cleared out his office, he gave me

a small wooden sculpture of a farmer

sowing seed, crouched like a ping pong player,

ready to throw away all that he has.

He wasn’t so complicated, really.

In loving memory of  Herbert Eugene (Gene) Herr, May 11, 1932 – Jan 1, 2012