Everything

The third floorboard from the door creaks

Just a tiny bit on the right side

And only if your heel

Catches it the right way

The House Sparrow chiruhps through an open window

From his nest in the farthest tree

I presume, to take part

In the evening symphony

I can hear the echo of childrens feet

As they're running room to room

The click-clack of plastic princess shoes

And quiet thunk of an 8 year old boy's socks

That belies a game with few rules

One of which is certain to be stomping

The refrigerator hums quietly

Only grumbling on occasion as

More ice is required for the sweet tea

Water bubbles and pops on the stove

And the click-clacks and thunks approach

The door to the kitchen whispers open

Seems our pied-piper home

Has sung them straight to me

And dutifully, my son sets the table

And happily, my daughter ballerina's her way to a seat

And with Thanksgiving dinner before us

I ask of them and me

What are we most grateful for

And the answer is, and will always be

Everything.