The sunset is snagged for a minute
on the window of the moving car.
It makes me glad - that we are in it
circling sun and island as we are.
Ordinary things make me happy -
the sounds at the pump as you refuel,
the curve of road, the strength of coffee,
minute grass flowers strewn like small jewels.
The ancient trees that make the forest,
the curve of the moon that makes the tide,
this poem written in the smallest,
quietest words with you at my side.
This one's dedicated to the Hilaire Belloc poetry fan, who will deign to read no others. Which means I can write whatever I please, that's got to be good. And all rather ordinary. :)
And here is another bit of ordinary and boring...