It’s hard to be a dad.
It’s hard to do the right thing.
It’s hard to know what the right thing is.
Sometimes you think you know.
But then you see you got it wrong.
It’s hard to be a dad.
It’s hard to do the right thing.
It’s hard to know what the right thing is.
Sometimes you think you know.
But then you see you got it wrong.
I’ve got a quiverful of children.
The Bible calls them arrows
and me lucky
and I am.
Though I’ve a pretty good view
of the target, and pull the bow
the same way every time,
bends in the air
send the one a-high
and the one a-low
and dams back in
their beaver,
aquiver.
I duck myself when they circle around.
I practice.
I do practice.
But my son and my daughter
fly where they will.
Over and under but especially
under the hill,
they fly where they will.