His quiet face and gentle, probing eyes
Shine in the ordinary countryside,
Illuminating farms, and woods, and skies
With calm intelligence and subdued pride.

The signs of Man are present in his prints,
Yet Man himself is absent. Nason wields
The burin and reveals the pleasant tints
Of houses, barns, and orchards, and of fields.

His steady hands caress the willing wood
And bring forth verities, humanities,
The values in the simple lives and good
That carved the landscape into memories.

He has enriched the wood, and is enriched in turn.
His spirit loves the past for which his passions yearn.

Copyright (2006) by Arnold Cantor.
All rights reserved.

[Written July 15, 1987.]