Family Fire

There's a young man who lives across the way
I don't know if he has a wife.
Every day he takes his lab for a walk
He seems to really enjoy this life.

He brings his well-behaved dog home,
Comes back with his fishing pole.
Yesterday he caught a flounder
Will today's catch be mackerel?

I've often thought it would be nice to fish
But it takes a patient and steady hand.
When The Creator handed out these attributes
I must not have been part of that plan.

How life must have been for early humans
Who gave thanks for whatever they caught;
I guess even then I'd have been the cook
Of whatever the hunters and gatherers brought.

I would sit by the campfire and listen
To the exciting stories they would tell;
I'd supervise older children watching babies
In the community where I'd dwell.

The really old folks, wrapped in blankets,
Would be welcome around the campfire.
They would have open laps for the babies
Until the day comes that they expire.

We'd sing joyful songs together,
Welcoming each new day and each meal
We'd sing soothing songs until the babies,
Into peaceful slumber would steal.

And when all the children were
Safely tucked into their beds
The adults would share stories
About that which they dread.

We'd have a council of elders
Who'd share the wisdom of the ages
And we'd listen to the active adults
Who would also act as sages.

Perhaps we'd have a talking stick
To each, it would be passed around.
This would insure that the campfire
Would be respected as holy ground.

After all the family folks retired,
The wild ones could remain by the fire
They could regal each other with their lies
A fall sleep with adventure-glazed eyes.