Awake at night and scrolling in a screen
is not the joy that moms and babies share;
our fathers' laughter echoes far away,
their stories told by tongues of men and fire.
And days devoted for a future time
with study or some work – well spent but still
accommodating dark, unclearing clouds,
the old arrangements – join together. Then
life! It's here! In seven days I glimpse it:
a flaming, dancing days of work and play,
the sand and brick all inched along in light
and seven times stars' spin spans brass; trumpet
sounds drift around and knock at dreams to say
"All rest is full and peace is loud and bright!"