Ordinary Lives

Cradled in my hammock,
I watch clouds scud past
like a movie in which the director is drunk.

A whirling copper sun
with spinning crystals
splashes my newspaper
with rainbows as I read
about how Buzz Aldrin
celebrated his 93rd birthday
by taking his fourth wife,
ever the optimist.

Think of it! To walk on the moon —
the MOON — then return
only to weather
mundane disappointments
and sticky divorces
like any mortal.
How could anything on Earth
measure up
after stepping foot on the lunar surface?

Sparkle, flash
and otherworldly intensity enrich us —
but for now I’ll take
these ordinary hours.
All day, planes inscribe
the chalky, blue slate,
wind chimes clank
their clumsy songs,
a counterpoint
to the cooing
of mourning doves
preparing for sleep
as evening comes on

languid as syrup, the sky
in its vibrant last flush,
my love beside me
in the cushiony air,
where nothing happens
and absolutely everything happens
as we wait for the moon
and the planets
to switch on their lamps
one by one.

 

Terry Godbey, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily January 19, 2024