I wanted a poem this week in praise of the ordinary; a poem that celebrates how beautiful everyday life is, the more boring the better. Here's a nice one that I found on the Writer's Almanac site.
The Patience of Ordinary Things
by Pat Schneider
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things...
Here's the rest of it.
I am still reveling in my life, my routine, the blah-ness of predictability. It is a kind of love, enjoying those things - and people - that you trust to be there, day after day. You try not to think about the fact that someday they might not be. And yet, you do let yourself think that a little, because it makes you love them that much more today.
Book Aunt has the Poetry Friday roundup today.
1 hour ago