A Wonderful Day




A Wonderful Day


One Saturday morning

When I was not that young

I woke to find icy rain sluicing down.

Through the steamy windows

The pelting clouds looked  relentless.

Thunder grumbled in the trolls’ halls,

And I growled with sour temper.


‘Oh! What a rotten day!  

I plopped on to my chair at the table

Without so much as ‘Good Morning’,

And lathered my toast with marmalade.

I kicked off my thick slippers

Because the house was a bit warm.

Deliberately I slurped my milk.


My mother was at the stove cracking eggs

Into the sizzling skillet.

She turned,

And fixed me full front with her famous





‘You have two eyes to see,

Two ears to hear,

And two feet to walk.

Isn’t it a beautiful day?’

She held the spatula like an exclamation mark.

‘Yes!’  I gulped, ‘It’s a wonderful day!’

Then I got up to help her fry eggs for the family.


Cynthia Buell Thomas





◄ Just Three Thoughts

Letter in a Drawer ►


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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 15th Dec 2009 13:38

I adore this. A lovely reminder for me (I have a natural tendency towards grumpiness) I love the domestic details, it feels homely and very real. The spatula exclamation mark is just perfect.

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jane wilcock

Mon 14th Dec 2009 22:32

This is so true, it should be placed in everyones hallway as they exit to the trolls.

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Cate Greenlees

Sun 13th Dec 2009 19:03

I know that look.... my mum practised it on me, and I practised it on my children!
Cate xx

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Greg Freeman

Thu 10th Dec 2009 10:04

I like both the sentiments and the language in this, Cynthia. Skillet is a wonderful, satisfying word. And "she held the spatula like an exclamation mark." Just right

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 8th Dec 2009 09:30

This made me feel better on this wet, windy, mucky morning! Really enjoyable poem. Thanks to you and your mother! Off to have my toast now. ;-)

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Mon 7th Dec 2009 22:38

Think I could do with your mother in my kitchen. Icy rain sluices down my windows every day and it is hard to look on the bright side sometimes...
I like the way you can give such insight into a relationship through a glimpse into everyday household life. This reminds me of other poems you have written about your mother. Very subtle writing.

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