It’s the third Thursday of the month, which means it’s time for A Gathering of Poetry - welcome!
There are plenty of mornings when I open the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC online, glance at the headlines, and think, I wish we didn’t live in such unprecedented times. I’ll admit that back when there wasn’t a new crisis every ten minutes, I took things for granted. I assumed the world was humming along about as smoothly as it could, and I could focus on my family and the small stuff of everyday life.
These days, I take very little for granted and often find myself longing for an ordinary day, just a calm, uneventful, ordinary day. This poem captures that feeling beautifully for me, and maybe it will for you, too.
This was a day when nothing happened,
the children went off to school
remembering their books, lunches, gloves.
All morning, the baby and I built block stacks
in the squares of light on the floor.
And lunch blended into naptime,
I cleaned out kitchen cupboards,
one of those jobs that never gets done,
then sat in a circle of sunlight
and drank ginger tea,
watched the birds at the feeder
jostle over lunch's little scraps.
A pheasant strutted from the hedgerow,
preened and flashed his jeweled head.
Now a chicken roasts in the pan,
and the children return,
the murmur of their stories dappling the air.
I peel carrots and potatoes without paring my thumb.
We listen together for your wheels on the drive.
Grace before bread.
And at the table, actual conversation,
no bickering or pokes.
And then, the drift into homework.
The baby goes to his cars, drives them
along the sofa's ridges and hills.
Leaning by the counter, we steal a long slow kiss,
tasting of coffee and cream.
The chicken's diminished to skin & skeleton,
the moon to a comma, a sliver of white,
but this has been a day of grace
in the dead of winter,
the hard cold knuckle of the year,
a day that unwrapped itself
like an unexpected gift,
and the stars turn on,
order themselves
into the winter night.
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The whole time I was working I could hardly wait for retirement so I could enjoy ordinary life. Having the time for a cup of tea, reading a chapter in a quiet room, finishing up a sock, these were my goals. You should have seen my financial advisor’s face when I told him I was taking the early out. It’s been 15 years, I’m not broke and I have all the time in the world for that cup of tea.
ReplyDeleteThose are excellent goals! My husband thinks I'm being lazy when I drink my tea, read, or knit. I'm usually content when I do those things and I feel like it keeps me grounded. I'm not sure how you had time to work, but you're certainly taking advantage of retirement with your multitude of craft projects!
DeleteWhat a lovely poem! I, too, took these sorts of days for granted, but I'm going to make a point to appreciate them more. There is beauty in the mundane sometimes, especially in these unprecedented times. Thanks for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteOh, Bonny. This one gave me tingles and brought tears to my eyes. Thank you. XO
ReplyDeleteWell, Bonny, you have shared the perfect poem for me. I so long for those days. I also try to remember when thinIgs started going south that John used to tell me that we really got a nice slice of life. And it's true, our generation got a lot of the magic of ordinary days for quite a while. I know I quote him a lot, but all the encouraging things he said to me still resonate. I am still trying to find the formula for a fulfilling ordinary day with all my life changes. Not there yet, but hopeful that I will be some day.
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