actually, yes

On waking, morning's happy hours before
Me, and the prospect dear of boyish grins,
A bearded kiss, and autumn trees that flames
Aflicker sport, the scarlet banners of
Our blessings waving, I in bed did lie
And contemplating courses clear to me,
Resolved responsibilities to reach
And grasp with all th'awareness love, my love,
Could muster of the mystery of grace.
That providence so seeking, sprang I forth
For just a moment gleeful. O! The screams
That greeted me, the bearded face and grim,
The whines, the wails, demands to break the fast--
Was this the wondrous work for which I'd asked?

1 comment:

Kimberly said...


A mother's work is never done. Wouldn't trade it for the world, but some days are harder than others.