It felt like a USUAL morning. My feet hit the FLOOR with a satisfying thud, pushing away the last remnants of sleep. Down the steps I go, all the WHILE dreaming of hot coffee, my BELLY rumbling, and fantasies of dark purple blackberry JELLY to slather on a slice or two of hot buttered toast. And then I realized, this moment, a gray chilly November morning, is not to be treated as run of the mill. What if I open myself up to the delight of the mundane, the joy to be found in the ordinary. May I savor the simple fact of being alive, safe in the moment, sheltered and secure.

Georg’ann

I’d already done the day’s writing
earlier, about a man going
through a TRIAL with his
abdominal BULGE, the joys of a donut.
Humorous fluff to start Saturday.

Then the mail came
carrying a charming gift
from my darling daughter.
A Bonne Maman Advent calendar!

Every day a new door to open,
sweet delights waiting in tiny jars
lidded with red and white checks.
Sweet jam or JELLY for toast,
to enjoy on a warm scone, perhaps
that dollop of flavor on cheese
or in a sauce.

I marvel at her thinking of me,
tangibly connecting when
I’ve been missing her so keenly.
The gesture new, unexpected.

How tender my heart at receiving
this particular seasonal magic.
So much contained and ineffable
in a plain brown box traveling
from Philadelphia to Bloomington.

Heather