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Poem

Most do not know how good we've got it.
We live day by day, 
in our shiny cars and fancy houses.
Take out and drive through, clean water,
central heat and air, keep us conformable year round,
Egyptian cotton, goose down, hot showers 
and clean clothes.
A daily chore?  A lifetime of luxury?

Being here, I see it all.
Two dark eyes peeking out between her shoulder blades
all snug and warm
Mamma's rhythm of work, her lullaby.

Immense baskets of goods
defly atop their heads.
No mini vans needed here.

Barefoot children playing in the mud.
Blissful poverty.

An hour long journey, both ways to too few schools,
happy just to learn

Men toiling the countryside
churning acres a day
their only tool, a spade.

We spoiled many.
Most don't understand
just how it is.

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