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Some days are about the work of living and the poetry comes from action and pause, completion and setting aside. Today is a day like that.
- Today I picked up my car from the mechanic, and he told me about working on his cousins' dairy farm. I told him about living on a dairy farm when I was in my teens. We agreed that cows are remarkable animals.
- I've watched the fawns resting in the shade. Today there are three of them. Yesterday there were two. I think the mama is looking after someone else's baby. Deer do that, they will adopt fawns, but I've never seen it before.
- I'm working on a set list for an event on Monday. I'm telling campfire stories, and need to weave in easter eggs about the hiring organization. It's taking some work, some walking away, some more work. I will worry that I can't do it, but it will come together.
- Soon my mother will stop by and we'll talk about everything and nothing because that's what life is, everything and nothing.
- When she leaves, there are weeds to be pulled (always weeds to be pulled), squash to be picked, words to be written and read, dinner to be cooked, a dog and a guinea pig to be loved, a spouse to be appreciated.
Each one of these events seems trivial and yet each one has its own rhythm and beauty, frustration and mundanity. I wish I was someone who always saw it like that, but I'm not. I see the wonder of the every day from time to time, mostly when I stop to write about it as I am now. That's part of the wonder of writing, it helps me see more clearly.
I hope your day is filled with mundane wonder. There is magic in those moments, even the frustrating ones. It's waiting for you and me.
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