Ordinary Time

Peter Singer says we are all equally valuable and I believe him. This means I should do more, that the care of one small bundle (never mind that it is my bundle) is insufficient—even if this is what I am fitted to do. Across the road two magnolias, one pink, one white. In the days since we came home I’ve watched their stark flower-spiked branches soften and go pastoral—the green leaves of ordinary time climbing out of the wood. The thing is, there isn’t any indefinite ‘later’: childhood, adolescence, adulthood. Then, God willing, I’ll be wearing out. Already as I lay this down I see you as the reader. I think: A decorative mind isn’t much of an inheritance; and One day there’ll be no book of mine left on the earth. Having started as a poet I suppose any contribution is a positive mark on the ledger. —"Ordinary Time"