You see
the precious gift
of ordinary things
as Pablo Neruda did,
but need no words,
pen or paper,
to bow
to olive oil
to the great night sleep
to the mossy rocks
to the blooming ocotillo
to the perfectly ripe avocado
to everyday heroes
to handwritten letters
to spontaneous laughter
to fresh farm eggs
to the smiling stranger
to the desert’s wildflowers
to the world wide web
to bittersweet moments
to afternoon naps
to grey clouds
to slowing down
to stinging nettles
to soft blankets
to strange dreams
to the garbage man
to the graceful death

The simple gifts
your devotional being sees
as you move through life
fill you with that deep warmth
you silently beam out.

And that
is the gift
you are.

Posted by kind permission of the author.

This ode was among more than 100 responses to our invitation to write an ode to an “ordinary thing.” We share it here with delight and gratitude.


Poetry