The Family Gathering
Four kids are here. The oldest one is three. Their parents, also here,
Are variously sleeping or examining their phones, which means that
The rampaging mob, whining, crying, thirsty, dropping toys
And drink cups everywhere, are passed to us for supervision. Such
A lovely holiday! It seems we're still at work.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2025-05-25 at 21:46



