The Seven Stars

 

Only because I had nothing to write about

did I start walking around the house,

slowly looking at everything with a writer’s eye.

It didn’t take long to find something

because I’ve just now seen that

the ceramic bowl we’ve had for years,

the one that holds all of our kitchen utensils,

has the word Family etched on it prominently.

 

Whose family? Does the motley collection

of utensils jammed in there too tightly together

consider itself a true family unit?

Because that’s the way they look to me now,

now that I’m walking around the house,

carefully looking at everything with a writer’s eye.

 

Although this earthenware crock

sits inches from the coffee pot

I use every morning and it houses

my very favorite wooden spaghetti spoon,

I’ve never really noticed

or thought for even a moment

about that word being there.

 

Nor have I questioned myself,

or anyone else in my own family,

as to why there are seven painted stars

circling the word Family,

as if the concept of family isn’t

special enough on its own

and needs to be dressed up some

to be noticed and appreciated.

 

Perhaps whoever made the bowl is right, though –

those seven stars didn’t work for me.

As I’ve said, I’ve never really seen

that word there before.

 

What else am I missing around here?

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3 thoughts on “The Seven Stars

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