Mother Why

I am five and should be
In kindergarten class,
But my birthday is January
Third so I must wait until
I am six to start school.
I am home and ask my
Mother why this or that
All-day long while my
Little sister Sally tags along.
I ask why did she name me
Daniel and was it because
I would face a den of lions
And only survive by not
Showing any fear?
She sings Oh, Danny Boy.
I ask if why sunbeams dance,
Why the sky turns red at
Dawn and dusk only
Sometimes and why we have
To stir the peanut butter each
Time to mix the oil and peanut
Paste together and why she
Uses Tide not Oxydol?
She often sings a few lines
From songs in reply to my
Whys that relate but do not
Answer why it is,
An allegory of music
For a reply to my question or
Says, “Why, why, why … flirch!”
I help around the house
And dunk my little sister’s
Dirty diapers in the toilet to
Remove the poop before the
Washing machine cleans them
And I hand my Mother
Clothespins to hang them
Up and carry in sheets, diapers,
Pillowcases that have dried
On the line and smell so
Fresh and clean I bury
My face into them in
My arms as I walk
Back into the house.
My whys are as
Endless as my
Mother’s
Patience.
There is
No TV
So ...
I must
Ask why
And learn
To think
And question.