It is Evening.

Well, here we are back again with another poem. Gracious me. And in the midst of November which means in the midst of (drumroll) NaNoWriMo! And yes, I am insane and joined. Anyway, your poem.

It is evening

It is evening.
Here there are five of us.
Glasses clink, silverware rattles.
There is a happy silence.
Dinner.

How many families do not/
Will not/
Cannot
Sit down and eat together?
I speak not of some microwave dinner
But of real food.

We need our families--
Dysfunctional/loving/hating/
Just plain weird.
We still need them.

Open your eyes and there is light.
This is the first day.
And now your eyes see shapes.
This is the second day.
Someone has picked flowers. They wait--
All wait for you.
This is the third day.
Do you see the light in your mother' s eyes?
They are twin suns/twin moons.
This is the fourth day.
Cat comes and lookks at you. He sniffs you
Carefully.
This is the fifth day..
I am. I am me. This is the sixth day.
Rest on the seventh day and all the seventh days to come.
One baby: All the world.
One family: All the universe.

It is morning.
Here there is one
Waiting, walking, running.
This is the beginning.
Life.