We watched a movie, Paterson, the other night, and the main character was a poet. It got me thinking about how much I used to love writing poetry when I was younger. That being said, I'm about to attempt to write a little who-knows-what-form-this-will-take poem.
tiny kindnesses
a smile, a wave, a hi met with eyes
thanks, of course, thinking of you guys
listen closely as though time is endless
wrapped in a hug, arms fully extended
a card, thumbs up, sending love your way
hold the door open, have a nice day
of the things we do some of the most timeless
are the why-just-because, tiny acts of kindness
This poem is dedicated to the exterminator who checked our house for critters today. We got to talking after he finished, and it was one of those feel-good chats where two people were fully present. We talked Falcons and chemo and hardwood floors and humility. Thank you, Bill.