Small Day

( invisiblegreen )

This day so quiet and

small, full of tiny

accomplishments,

like

a good night's sleep

despite

pollen-clogged airways,

a couple new bras,

a vacuumed floor,

an opening rosebud,

a silent sunset.

Is this

what life is for?

If I measure my days 

by material accomplishments,

today was a bust, but

if I measure my accomplishments

by pleasure given,

this is what I gained today:

a smile from the elderly woman

next door when I stopped

to chat; a gradual relaxation

from the trembling hands

of the cashier who wrapped

my new lingerie (she was

my student once: a shy girl

embarrassed by seeing

what her teacher wears

underneath.

I remembered her name,

and her major, and actually

made her laugh, and the trembling

stopped); a purr

of contentment from the cat 

as I brushed her; another purr

from the other

when I shared my lamb

at dinner.  A check

to help my landlady

with necessary repairs.

A quiet sunset, joy from a song I've always loved to hear.

And this poem,

if you can call it that.

Indeed this day -- 

this small, quiet day --

has been a booming success.