Each day and each night I thank the essence that is for another day ahead and another day of life. I appreciate the “daily grind.” That is our life, and our attitudes and resulting actions create the path of our hope and calm or worry and chaos. Deep breaths do help on those days when chaos wins, and a purring cat or the ear of a friend will save the day.
And that cat— who sleeps most of the day, if we let her, in order to prowl and hunt at night. Her day is a change from my day, our days.
So the day after day, unless you’re a cat, is my poem.
I have to admit that this is more of a draft— there’s much I could change, but this is a day I’m busy and so my solution in the struggle is to accept imperfection. Remember that as you write— you can always return, especially if you’ve at least taken the time to get it written and especially shared. It will settle in your mind and nudge you days or weeks or a year later as better ideas and time connect in your mind.
I did have a focus, the idea as stated above— I’m thankful for all that is—- and for my experience within it, and that my wild little cat is on her own “everyday” schedule. So this is a poem about “everyday.” It’s not exciting or special, except that “it is.” And that is enough.
Here are some of my notes and thinking. I refer to consonance [repeated consonant sounds] and assonance [repeated vowel sounds]. For information on these, see LitCharts.
In the early morning, fog rises from the river, a ribbon of white flowing with the ocean of air, spreading out over the earth below where people awaken to their daily being, perhaps unknowingly thankful for another day as they glance out the window to a sun peeking over the basalt cliffs of the coulee walls.
Throughout the day children chatter on their way to school, mothers rush off to work— fathers already there. Clouds form as others repair cars, rake the what’s left of last autumn’s leaves, and phone for another job interview. As the currents of the sky bring a sprinkling of rain and the new greens grow a bit more, the currents of daily life also sprinkle with struggles for which we grapple for solutions and a chance for breathing easier.
And the evening finds daylight filtering through the dust in the breeze, casting reds and pinks across the stretched clouds for one more glance out the window to the gift of a painted sky and a sigh that we’ve forged through to settle into rest, a rest that cat does best.
Dusty, breezy daysSheri Edwards
dapple red and pink the skies;
sunset stirs the cat
The mundane, the everyday. What is “every day” in your life? What is the pattern of your day? Find the pattern that feels familiar and OK. Focus on that — find one particular part of your day that allows you to hold calm. For me, it’s the morning and evening check out the window— at the sky and the neighborhood and the cat in the window.
Perhaps it’s the walk or drive to work or school. I could have chosen that— my drive to work before retirement— it was a place and time of reflection, a twenty minute respite from the world.
Perhaps its the friendly greeting from a pet. Maybe breakfast. Could be choosing your clothes for the day. Maybe it’s math class. Perhaps it’s preparing to play a game on a device— not the game, but getting ready for it.
Just write it, describe it. Re-read that bit of writing and note your feelings from the words. Now consider what else is happening around that and write some of that— but keep your moment of everyday as the focus. Return to it.
When I think of my looks out the window, I always return to the cat. What do you return to? Make that your ending.
May your “everyday” be part of your daily gratitude— and calm.