Ode to the Commonplace

The day tend hitherwards in

on its rock-bed

from nine to five

and each man

is at his work,

as if it were

his next to the first nature

and Spring comes

with its dandelions

and its Sunday mornings

and all the neighbors

are without mowing the lawn

and greeting each other:

(I did not know there were thus many)

'long time no see'

familiar of advanced age faces, smiling.

Oh, the security in banter!

The young men are without too,

huddling in groups

sizing up each other, bonding,

for there is peace now.

But not for long

On Monday they are on the outside again

crying for facts, facts,

for each thing

to be veritable to its nature

for an straightforward leader

not too ambitious.

So bring upon the odes

and drink, drink,

to the health of the commonplace,

the mountain of the Lord.

Copyright World verse Incorporated Jul/Aug 2003

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