The Birdhouse

With your carpenters hands

And your carpenters fingers,

You could construct a house

A table, a chair, a cabinet, a pergola

From a cut down tree.

But, you built for me

A birdhouse so simple

With your tools of hammers

Saw, nails, glue, chisels, lathe

And built it big enough

For a small sparrow to nest.

With sandpaper, you smoothed

The rough-cut edges

And brushed on layers of varnish

For it to withstand all sorts of weather.

The birdhouse still stands

To this very day

And has welcomed generations

Of a sparrow family.

But you have gone,

Taken your tools,

For someone in heaven,

Needs a birdhouse.