Oh, but they are small!
My kids, racing past the kitchen cabinets—
will they grow, and pair,
give birth? As I have.
Will they listen to one word I say?
How can they keep a covenant
when they don’t remember their promise
to throw fruit roll wrappers away?
Lego men, pens and a pillow fort on the floor
they have more on their minds than You!
I try for them, to remember,
cajole and admonish.
I bark, a guard dog
protecting their future.
But my tone seems thin while my hands
work: prepare their clothes, clean her ear
put sunblock on his scar—her medicine, his
wheatless meals. What must I know
to fulfill my covenant with you?
I’m afraid I fail.
I do fear the Lord.