No Poem? 
	For Shannon Ulery

         by Wilda Morris

I'm tired and have no poem 
to write. No words to celebrate
the golden-haired blessing

who ate breakfast with me;
danced in church 
as the Hispanic choir sang;

who asked me to play hide and seek,
didn't find me behind the door 
until I called her name;

who sang me a funny song;
and begged to go to MacDonalds.
How can there be no poem 

for four-year-old giggles and hugs, 
for resistance to leaving the playground -
and even that with a smile?

Why should I write a poem?
Shannon is one!