family

By Millicent Howard

Through the walls, the murmurs rise,

Arguing voices, scattered cries.

Down the hall, where boots lie strewn,

A scatter of chaos fills the room.

Steps collide—heel against toe,

People tripping, to and fro.

Words like missiles, tempers flare,

Food takes flight through crowded air.

For twenty mouths, the table groans,

A feast too small for hungry homes.

Above, the children pound and race,

Below, the elders dream in grace.

Go to your room, for temptation of peace,

Silence allowing a sweet release.

When all depart, the house exhales,

A quiet that soon grows to stale.

The Earth—

So suddenly,

Stops moving.