PoetryAloud
Luke Prater Reads
Small Things
Do small things;
we don’t need to bring the mountain to Mohammed. In the dusk, when the door’s open, and the children know better than you or I, do small things. Clear your space, let unseen company visit. Appreciate cushions; let cushions hold you like an infant. Do small things: feed the spouse, allow the spouse to feed you, hand-to-mouth. Take joy in a piecemeal palace, in trusting it’s always enough. Do small things. Move barefoot on the porch to Mozart or LaMontagne; follow fallow feet treading sun-parched planks, licking soles with long, grainy tongues. Purvey acts of the ordinary in extraordinary ways, allow extraordinary days. Do small things; survey your kingdom - a desk. A room. A garden. These will always be enough. Do small things. Make cards from old ones, giving them to old friends on no particular occasion, or rationale, other than that you love them. Do small things. Strap on wire and fabric wings; carve the Pieta or Moses from soap. It will recognise its change of state as much as a mountain recognises its moving. |
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