Poetry Morning

For a moment the house is still.
Awaiting, like me the day.
Washer hissing, coffeepot purrs and gurgles.
Soon there will be the soft patter of feet
Announcing warm bodies with sleepy eyes.
They all like to snuggle, even the littlest one.
Who cries Mum? Mum? from his crib for me.
And if sometimes I wonder where they
Came from, these tall bodies and eager minds
It isn't that I regret... Simply that I feel
Amazed and bewildered by the passage of time.