Because I am a man
I hate to think about it,
But half my ancestors were women.
So often I will credit
All my manly attributes
To the line of hairy males
I claim as predecessors.
But don't I also owe the females?
Whenever I'm on my knees,
Weeding my flower garden,
Whenever I'm in the kitchen,
Whipping up a batch of cookies,
Whenever I'm adding the final touches
To a neatly made-up bed
By box pleating the top sheet,
Cleaning the house without complaining,
Folding the laundry, pressing a shirt, singing,
I can give thanks to the women
In my family tree
That I don't spend all my waking hours
Puffing cigars, belching, stinking,
And scratching where it itches . . .
Though I love those things as well!
Well, I gave up the cigars many years ago and don't spend much time on the housekeeping these days, but it's still a true poem.
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