Saturday Morning

Distant babble, a shout, an egg beater, What does the clock say? More noise, a dream dancing just beyond memory’s reach, Where are my glasses? 6:45, no, 8:54 I found them on the sill. Down one, then two floors, The babble becomes intelligible. Mom’s answering emails Bob plays Toy Crush I see Zac reading Despite the lack of hush Lydea and Becca make us pancakes, No, it’s muffins that they make. What kind is still in question Because the batter isn’t done. Violet yells at random people, But she is only four. She throws a yellow tape measure, It skitters across the floor. Haylee’s still asleep How, I do not know. But in her sleep she misses What is going on below. Dad is at the temple Diligently serving God He wants his family all to know That his devotion is still strong. Saturdays and family Are pretty much the best. Except for when my mom says “Now clean up your huge mess.” Still I wouldn’t trade them for the world Though into it I’m being hurled And when I think of imminent leaving My heart in two is slowly cleaving But it’s time to go So they should know, I’ll keep them close to me.