Party

“Get set,” they said,
“And remember that fortune favours
The loud, and grasping,
Success the promulgation of the
Selfish gene.”

We said: “No”,
Rolled up sleeves, and
Rolled bones, smiling
To see the tiles tip
For true hearts,
Wise words,
And generous company.

This is a dance of wits
And wisdom,
Gifts from the infinite
Distilled and shared
In hand-fast rounds
Of like minds,
And matched hearts.

We’ve watched the circle march,
Sometimes from farther
Than we’d like,
And kick quiet,
Swinging feet,
Greeting each gift
With a gentle: yes.

Get set.