Dinner at Five

Traditions begin in the oddest of ways,
Often defying all logic and reason.
Unlike the rotation of the seasons,
Seemingly out of our sphere of control.

Holidays circled in red on the calendar,
Parties on birthdates or
Sundays in church.
All on a schedule determined by others,
Marking of milestones as patterns unfold.

Other traditions, more privy in nature, 
But just as important and more resolute
To the nature and nurture
Of everyday struggle,
The mire and the muddle of staying alive.

Like summer vacations on lullaby beaches
Escaping the hustling, bustling hive.
Snuggling close by the fireside in winter.
Date night by moonlight,
Dinner at five.

Taken for granted, these well-worn excursions
Often unmissed until they are gone.
Looking back now and remembering fondly.
Like dinner at five,
Tradition lives on.

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