My daughter's Yorkie: Penny Joy
High praise for the Ordinary Day:
days when the skies dont rain bombs,
when the tornado doesnt hit,
when you dont suddenly find yourself,
near death and helpless, in the hospital.
Praise to the string of uneventful days
that follow each other like cheerful baby ducks:
nothing disastrous, nothing traumatic,
no unique pronouncements,
no confrontations or misunderstandings,
or worries:
just one's ordinary days,
full of the everyday goodness of porches and gardens,
of evening and birdsong,
of cooking and eating and clearing up,
of shaking the small carpet out the back door,
the aging old horse whuffing over the fence,
the elderly woman snipping the dead heads
off of the geraniums.
Praise to the song of the sprinkler
as it shush-shush-shushes in the meadow.
Praise to puffy perfect clouds
and wandering windsong,
to Day's End and Night's Rest
and, most miraculous of all,
praise to waking: eyes opening once again
on a brand new day.
Praise for it all, the uneventful days
one doesnt remember, looking back,
unremembered because of no crisis, no trauma,
no illness, no death,
full of fat dogs on their backs,
contented, waving their paws at the sky,
full of timorous little birds pecking at the feeder,
full of bemused wonder,
gazing at the late summer sky.
Praise for days that one knows, by now,
to cherish best
for their simple uneventfulness,
which we have come to recognize
as one of life's greatest blessings.
Praise for the ordinary extraordinary day,
because it is the most blessed
of them all.
Written for Mary's prompt at Poet's United's Vice/Versa this week :
unique/ordinary, and condemn/praise
Yippee! An Idea popped into my head, which has been distracted trying to Catch Up OnLine (last time I did was spring of 2011 and I was still in my trailer! Sigh.) Summer has accelerated to a ridonkulous degree, me running along behind, mopping my brow and muttering to myself. Trying to visit you all, kids, have patience with me.
