Making Dinner

Your singing, tuneless
          enthusiastic

There was a man named Michael Finnegan

Sweeps out from beneath

A curtain of hair

He had whiskers on his chinnegan

falling across some indescribable
childhood masterpiece.

The words

His beard grew out and then grew in again

A cheerful soundtrack

To the sizzle and chop 

Of dinner preparations.

You glance up.

I am smiling
       at you

Could I 

(old as the hills, you think)

possibly know this ditty?

Poor old Michael Finnegan

In answer I stop my 
busyness (for once)

And belt out a line.

You join in

Begin again

Faster and louder

There was a man named Michael Finnegan

faster and louder
He had whiskers on his chinnegan
Faster and louder

Until we are shouting joyfully.

The song sublimates 
to laughter.