You can read the entire May Swenson poem here at the Poetry Foundation.

An early start, a busy day, a walk through mist and the flutter of birds. A chat with my sister: warm-up. The excitement of preparation for the arrival this weekend. She has dreamed I am driving us in our bed. All of them will come: two brothers, two sisters, we will be five together on this island, this weekend. I swept the floor. I washed some sheets. I cleared the table of art materials. What will they want in their coffee and what kind of bread? We will have two sunsets, two sunrises. When have we last been together, like this, overnight, all of us in the same house under one roof? In the morning I walk in the mist, in the evening I walk in the sunsetting beach. After sunset, poetry, long distance, with my two poet friends from a Truchas poetry retreat, we meet monthly, and their poems are excellent and mine is not, mine needs so much work to be better, and I am not doing the work of fine tuning. I’m tuned to this weather, this sun and warm breeze and the windows open to fresh and quiet. Two children needed papers proofed, happy for me, I miss them. Every one of us, all five, have raised all of our children now into adults. We gathered so much for them. We gathered them with us for parties and hikes and plays and sports. Now, we gather without them for us. Like when we the kids and we played and we fought, but most of our fighting, I think, is behind us. So many fights how could we have much left to fight about now that they’re gone, our parents? Let’s see about play. How we still play. Play for ourselves together now at this age on the beach by ourselves.