His hands were rough and torn, and his sight was getting weak,
But he got up every morn'; his life not for the meek.
He headed for his wood pile; it had gotten way too low,
When he saw a stranger coming near - a small brown sack in tow.
The man was one of younger years, strong and fit and spry,
The old man said, "Where are you headed?" "I'm just passing by."
The old man urged, "Come sit with me - we'll have some nice hot tea.
The weather's getting frightful now. We'll have a storm, you'll see."
The stranger asked, "Where is your cabin? I don't see one around,"
The old man replied, "It's right back here" and pointed toward the ground.
"Is that a cabin; is that your home?" the stranger looked surprised.
"Yes, that's my home, that's where I live," embarrassed, the man apologized.
"I did not mean to sound so cruel, I just don't understand,
Why do you have a cabin here? It's such a lonely land."
The old man said, " I don't mind; the animals keep me company.
Birds sing, frogs croak, squirrels chatter all around me."
"But what about the cold, old man? The winters here are rough,"
"I cut the wood - and keep it lit," he said, "I've gotten tough."
The stranger asked, "Why are you here, so far out in the brushwood?"
The old man said, "I've lost my faith; in all that once was good".
"Some years ago I lost my son: then lost my faith in God.
His death was tragic, and it hit me like a lightning rod;
That is when I came out here - to be free from mankind,
By being out here, I grieve; it helps to clear my mind."
The stranger said he was sorry that he had to use the wood,
As it got real cold in the cabin; he'd replace it when he could.
The old man was so grateful, saying, "That's okay, my friend,
You've given me my faith back; because of you, I'm on the mend."
"I'm on the mend because you have befriended me,
I don't feel alone; you have filled my heart with glee.
I no longer feel like a castaway, being way out here,
I'll alway hold your friendship to my heart, close, near and dear."