One after another, they tumbled out,
four pairs of legs, two pairs of eyes,
And a tail for each.
I don’t count them though,
Miracles come unasked for,
And their numbers, evasive.
Through my dusty roads
I let them play,
one,two; two, one; one too many.
One sunny morning, they will run away-
towards a scrap, towards a smile;
I would not stop them,
for all the stones that haunt my dreams.
I am a mother, a ruthless bitch;
Life moves on and there always
Seems to be one miracle too many.
Though at times I wonder,
If they’d spoken a tongue,
Would I have tucked them into
A warm bed, happy and snug?