A dad with two sons and, oh,
they are so very different;
One, though smart, makes his ordinary show,
the other his intelligence.
Esau and Jacob again
at times it seems heaven has sent,
Though it sounds a story the same,
my two sons are not twins.
The firstborn hunts and fishes,
drives trains through the countrysides;
His brother cooks tempting dishes,
writes books, teaches collegiate minds.
I wouldn’t change them any, save, of course, their sins,
in that regard I’m a preacher, there I’ll always vie;
Still, how blessed I’ve been to raise two gents
different as my brothers and I.
-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013