There’s something about the mundane things:

Mowing the lawn, scrubbing the shower tiles 

Folding clean laundry into neat little piles

I admit I’ve thought lately: I’d outsource all these chores 

If I suddenly won the lottery

Then all the weeds, the mold, the lint would never brother me 

But then when would I think?

If I never had to wash the dishes in the sink 

When would the mayhem of the world disappear?
If not for my foamy ear plugs and plush green sponges 

The smell of laundry detergent 

I’d be the nervous wreck among us, an eventual insurgent 

Because the truth is: the world fades a little 

When I take care of what’s mine and try to stay in the middle 

Of the lines the lawnmower draws 

And the streaks of the sponge 

The little rungs of the dish rack 

And the shelf that holds the clean clothes I put back 

I take inventory 

All the mundane things tell a story 

Of the weather, of skin shedding, of worn bedding and good meals eaten 

These are the things of life whether or not we want to believe them 

Too much news – from here in the community and across the globe – is sure to cause the blues 

All the chores could be my escape 

And maybe my one chance to make the world great 

So for now I’ll keep my pay 

And do my best to hum along with the mower and the leaf blower 

To take time in the quiet to enjoy the mundane things

Rather than seeing them as obstacles in the way