He said – and I’ve never quite forgotten
the robust, smiling vigour in his voice –
that we should strive, not to be special;
but to be -- ordinary..
and in that moment, castles in the air
or built on sand, shook and dissolved;
for a moment the mind questioned;
qualified; dissented; looked for some easy let-out..
then recalled that sweet, wise hymn :
‘The daily round, the common task
will furnish all we need to ask…’
(or was it ‘ought to ask’ ?)
‘room to deny ourselves; a road
to lead us daily nearer God…’
but how to praise as poets should,
the ordinariness ?
And yet, once found, the still and silent ‘ordinary’
as ordained; as wild things live;
as monks and nuns walk; as a flower blooms –
there’s boundless glory as of a rising or a setting sun
in that ordinariness that sings
to know the world made new each moment
as we watch in ordinary awe.