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, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
This poem by Pat Schneider, ‘The Patience of Ordinary Things’, stirred something in me, like a teaspoon in a cup. A delving in. A welling up. There is peace to be found in the ordinary things.
Love,
Lou
Quote of the week:
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
― Percy Bysshe Shelley
For you to reflect on and perhaps write in your journal:
A moment for the ordinary things that surround me and accompany me on my way
When I slow down, I notice and appreciate . . .
When I am speeding along, I get caught up in . . .
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