The Patience of Ordinary Thingsby Pat Schneider
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?
|Waiting for customers at Amber Fort, Jaipur, India, (c) by Steve McCurry|
It is easy to be patient today. I have achieved that transcendent state that comes from not enough sleep but just enough so that I'm not haggard. So that I am at rest instead of yesterday's torment storm that rattled my mind's chain. Today, I watch the crisp winter sun burn off the last of the fog that still lingers past lunchtime. I feel need of nothing today. It is peace.