To fit a noble form,

Portraying goodness of a kind,

that encompasses us all.

Then one would look upon this man,

who radiates these things,

As Angel-like in every way

But without a set of wings.

We could not, as poets, ever find,

A subject better shaped,

Inside a better soul defined,

To which our stanzas could relate …

And I for one call him a friend,

This man I so admire,

Who builds in us the priceless blend,

Of love and peace and fire.

Merry Christmas, Woody.