The Gloriously Mundane

Not everything in life
Has urgency.
It isn’t all about
Now now now.
Not everything is important.
The daily crisis
Just isn’t.
There is no big red button
Tempting us
Scaring us.
Most of us
Don’t have that burden
Very few of us
Would want it.
No.
There’s just us
And where we are right now
Right here.
A cup of tea
A spit of milk
Last, not first,
Not too hot,
Not too cold,
In a china cup,
One that dings.
That matters.
A small white flower
Blooming bright
A scent so sweet
You just have to find out
The name of the plant.
Jasminum officinale.
That matters.
Sunshine
In a clear blue sky
Warming, easing
Eyes closing
Relaxing.
That matters too.
Loving
Knowing that you are loved.
That matters.
Perhaps that matters the most.
I’m not sure.
But the little things
The gloriously mundane
They also matter
They matter a lot.
Clothes that fit
Conversation with friends
The taste of peaches
The art of Egon Schiele
Solitude
The writing of Ernest Hemingway
Kissing
Children laughing.
In these small things
Lies the greatest of life’s
Little joys.

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