Missing A Family Gathering.

Here is a wonderful post from a brand new WordPress poet. Why not head over to her page and welcome her.


The sound of sweeping
Is not something you usually hear
Or if you do you never
Really pay attention.
The sounds of cars coming and stopping
Of families arriving and little ones laughing
or complaining,
Ears straining to pick up what those complaints
Are about, exactly
And who is going to shoot who down
Insist on entering
Their father’s family home first
Scraping chairs and padding feet
In thick socks or barefooted younger cousins,
Rushing too quickly to disdain
To get to the chocolate tin
Or the repeated pattern on a piano nobody
has forgotten how to play, despite the years,
Older aunts silence younger throats
At the moment when a grandparent
choses to speak
To drop a little cough or history here or there
And remind everyone who’s in charge
Sounds of sweeping lose out to family
In such circumstances
But in their absence
A brush against a living…

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