Rough and tumble—crash!—there goes My coffee cup. I sigh and know They won’t clean up the mess they’ve made. No, not without my guiding aid. I put the laundry down and breathe— I calm myself because I need To temper what I’m wont to yell. It’s simmering there; I feel it swell. I halt my steps a moment more Not to react as oft before. I pray for grace for me, for them. (How oft I need this little gem!) And then I head, quick, down the stairs To find six little eyes, three chairs And toys amuck across the floor All spilling from the pantry door Where hideouts burrow with the food. The eyes are searching momma’s mood. Drawing […]