It's 5:45 and we're on the road,
Ethan and me, cruising
up and down the hall.
One time, two times, three. Up and back.
We are opening doors and closing them.
We know what needs to be done, and we
America, do you know how much of your
work gets done before you wake?
Ethan goes to it-- he's putting his
baby shoulder to the wheel.
There is no hesitation.
Garbage can lid is lifted and dropped,
kitchen cabinets opened and closed,
the spoon that needed banging gets banged.
He is picking crumbs off the floor like nits
off a monkey's back.
He is very busy, working according to plan
nobody else understands.
America, while you sleep, Ethan is moving,
one finger in my hand, whirling down the
like an eggbeater,
doing what needs to be done.
Ethan is busy.
Do not disturb.
Baby at work.