There’s a poem titled Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden which ends with a question about the love of a father. It’s a beautiful little poem about remembering childhood and reflecting on what it means to be a father.
We first came across it in Malcolm Guite’s Advent anthology, Waiting on the Word, which we have enjoyed annually for the last few years. Read it, and hear Malcolm read it, on his blog (and from there you can follow through to the whole Advent collection).
I’ve also listened today to Pádraig Ó Tuama reading and discussing the same poem on the latest episode of the On Being podcast, and this is definitely worth a read or listen too.
I’m particularly moved by the last lines: “What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?”
What about you?