Poetry of Ordinary Things

See how the sunlight comes across the table, touching my hand and the paisley coffee cup I emptied earlier, is refilled with a pouring of the same anointing light. I am enamored by ordinary things like that spoon catching a reflection, the blue bowl holding a few pieces of fruit and a smear of strawberry jam I have left on a plate. Even the fridge in the corner gurgling as if its stomach was empty, is in communion with me. Each morning I begin with this modest feast, give thanks, catalog the pieces in my poetry.