Days of Me

Some people are morningers,
Some are nighterers, and I’m sure
There are afternoonish ones somewhere,
Just hiding away, but speaking of
Me, myself, and my other self, I am just
An all-arounderer, 24/7, usually,
Not applicable on hotter-than-death days,
But always in the middlest of night,
Camping trips and all overers, everyone sleeps,
Not me, awake and up and book out quietly,
Or loudly, or not at all, and something else,
Sometimes middle of the day, cleaning
Instead of homeworking, mop and brooming
And music loud playing and dancing up and all,
Everything’s sparkly fun and games today,
Red heads callling and running and spinning,
Catting and jumping all over till dark.

Call me up on weekdays or weekends,
Macaroni won’t cheese, kids not kiddering,
Or brown-tailed dog dogging all over,
Chewing corners and edges and tops, no,
Not a problem, running there like a flash,
Maybe slower, but enthusiasming through,
Never stopping, except when I stop, and chair,
And dark warm chocolate cookie, with a
Small crowd of helperizers, little workering,
Maybe dropping and breaking, but just as well,
Dustpans and rags fixer-up, table clean ready,
Tree house up and away, muffin and brownie taker,
If they help they help, bettering with luck,
So call me up, never sun-setter, whatever-doer,
And every-manner, no matter-whatter,
Always-something-optimism, sky-bright, house-high.