CONCEPTION

                                                All my life

I have celebrated

July, my birth month.

Now, I realize,

I should have reveled

In October with its potbellied

Pumpkins and chilly nights.

I imagine one evening,

My mother climbed the stairs

To her bedroom,

Shed her day clothes,

Donned a soft blue nightgown

Studied her face in the mirror, sighed

Over new lines above her brow

And slid into her side of the bed

She shared with my father.

He was not asleep

Although probably tired

From working late at the store.

Maybe simply to subdue

The feel of autumn in the air,

They came together

And were warm in each other's arms.

Something spectacular happened

That, months later, they would try to recall

What night this was.

That was my night.

I can’t conceive

A more important time,

Greater even than my birthday,

That October night

And those magnificent moments

Of parental embrace.

Fireworks and canon volley,

Tell the world.