The Yellow Rocking Chair (As seen on the porch of a mountain home)
“Offer hospitality to one another…”
—
There you sit – the color of daffodils;
Gilded with the glint of liquid sunshine –
On a porch, drab with weary, weathered wood;
A house virgin to the sweetness of paint,
Not by choice, but grim Poverty’s decree;
Much more worn-out looking than the mountains
Which, though forever changing, changeless be.
What wind of fate or fortune tossed you there,
Goldfinch rocker in a plain wooden cage?
And yet you are happy nor out of place.
You were singing a song as I passed by:
That someone in your gray home loves sunshine;
Answers with gladsome heart when brave jonquils
Explode into their soundless song each spring;
Says, “Yes!” to each saffron-tinted hickory,
Light-headed with the amber wealth of fall;
Draws each day from the treasure of time,
And lays it down at night, a piece of gold;
Lights the glowing taper of love for those
Who take refuge within those simple walls.
Yes, yellow rocking chair, you belong there –
As do the shafts of sunlight in my room,
Or the daffodils in my yard. You belong,
And will endure: Love made you what you are.
Dr. Robert D. Green
Mark Green’s Father
February 11, 1961
R. Mark Green
Pastor to Senior Adults and Youth & Children's Music