A Morning With e.e. cummings

The kitchen is tidy

The baby is nursing

Supper started in the slow cooker my sister gave me

I practice banjo in my head (to the beat of the laundry spinning in the dryer)

and I try, I try, I try

to not just think or know or believe

but like the teacher says-

I try to feel

this moment 

this poem

this feather light happiness

before it melts into 

the sea of days I don’t remember

Most of our days are mundane. Most of our activities are routine. Most of our time is filled with habits. It is so easy to remember the time you climbed a mountain or flew to Paris, but I want to feel the fullness and sacredness of the ordinary today. Time is flowing, but I can let it flow through me and not just by me. 

I'm really starting to love having Sunday mornings to focus on poetry, trying to find my heart and then getting to say hello to you. Thanks for reading.