Small Hands

God tightly grasped my innocent hand
when I was small and scared of steps
but when I could wander on my own
He cut me a sure and sturdy walking stick
to keep me steady on steep—rocky paths
and in life’s entropy of older grey bones
my big hands still grasp that secure staff

and with His grace in a selfless—kind wife
we now walk together to return the favors
even on our tricky trails of tense trials
as we rest upon the river’s green hedge
we each carve small branches from a tree
Father’s abundant tree of life and light
to guide the other children—just like us