To Family

Far out in the country, where conifers grow -- And rain covers windows like sheets; My abode stands firmly, where green fields flow, And four people sleep and eat. In quarters upstairs, I, the student, was straining And mumbling the words on a tome. Yet my mind, with the knowledge that it was then gaining, Wandered the floors of my home. Some clamor I heard: a broom and a tune And my ear saw the three others’ mirth. Dinner was coming, and we would meet soon. Then, I considered their worth. My brother’s poems and book writing smothered my ear -- And I am seven years older than he! But his passion killed pessimism, my hidden sneer, Though he never did see me. From the kitchen I saw the pots boil and sigh And my mother controls this game. But she seldom decries of her toil, so I Am compelled to do the same. The kitchen noise drowned in a bellowing tone And father speaks of his hopes and antics. Such talk is assuring in this quiet home. He Soothed the stressed and the frantic. My mind and my ear returned to my tome And my head filled with poems and pots that bang. I thought of the three and their work in this home. But then the dinner bell rang. The table downstairs was place for the food And the three praised poems, and proper persistence. Their talk was soothing, inspiring, good. They do deserve my reverence. In the midst of the laughter, our words and our chatter And our hearts now as light as a feather; All the worries and troubles, they no longer matter! These times keep us together. This is my family, a gem to exhibit And good deeds they deftly engender Though my praises are hindered -- my studies inhibit -- I can fondly remember.