Ordinary Is as Ordinary Does

The Bread Making Bowl , 

round and tan colored,

sits on top of the fridge.

No one bakes bread here any more,

so instead it gathers odds and ends of miscellany

that cant find another spot to live.

I remember my mother's hands,

forming the dough into a round,

then plopping it onto the bread board, covered with flour,

kneading, shaping, working the dough,

smiling with satisfaction,

then back into the bowl it went, 

covered with a cloth, to rise.

An ordinary weekly event,

one that gave her great pleasure

in her later years.

***

I wonder how old

the Palestinian is

who remembers a time

when he last spent

an ordinary day.

***

I wonder is there is
an Israeli Jew alive
who remembers a time
before war and death and sorrow.

***

In my world,

an ordinary day

is one of my

greatest pleasures.

To the suffering of the world,
my prayer:
may the bombs cease.
May you learn 
the extraordinary joys 
of an ordinary day.

***

for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is Something Ordinary. Which puts me in mind of the quote by  Einstein:   There are two ways to live. One, as if nothing is a miracle. The other, as if everything is a miracle. I favor the latter view.