Uncle John

by Earl G. Robbins

---

By ones, twos and groups they stopped
as they trod from home to village.
Why did they stop?
Was it for a drink from the well,
shade from the glowing sun
or a chat with Uncle John?
Each was freely taken
as though it were his own.
Thanks was seldom given - never expected.
Why should it be otherwise?
The thirst quenching water
ever replenishes itself.
Shade lasts as long as the tree stands
and the sun continues to shine.
Uncle John's listening ear, calming eye
and soft voice lasts as long as memory.

Refreshed they took up their lightened load
and went their way.
Same said they stopped only
for a dipper of water.
Others declared they needed rest
from the tiring dusty road.
Only a few really knew why they sat
on the crude bench under Uncle John's tree
in his batten foot-packed yard
and drank from his well.
None thought it important
to tell Uncle John why they
talked, listened and drank from his old gourd dipper.
 
Uncle John's water was no cooler;
his tree no more shady
than Uncle Dick's down the road.
Their fenced yards
were clipped, manicured and attractive;
their swings and chairs more comfortable.
Uncle Dick told their visitors
they were welcome
to stop, drink and relax.
Uncle John never.
Yet under his tree, each sat, sipped,
spoke and listened
according to his mood and feeling

From the June/July 1998 issue of The Round Robin.