Who needs mountains, oceans and magnificent sunsets when there's half a biscuit beneath the chair? A rather unconventional ode to life's smaller wonders, with a special reading by Garth, the bull terrier.
They tell me awe belongs to mountains,
to stars, to oceans without end;
to thunder rolling over valleys
and sunsets requiring witnesses.
Perhaps.
I have seen none of these this morning.
I have, however,
found half a biscuit beneath the chair.
And there you were,
small, slightly dusty,
quite possibly forgotten,
asking nothing of the world
but to be noticed.
O small things,
how badly we underestimate you.
The first crack of a book
not yet read.
The right word,
arriving after six wrong ones.
Rain against the window
when one has nowhere to go.
The warm place on a cushion
recently vacated.
A kettle beginning its distant song.
A door opening
to someone expected.
You do not announce yourselves.
There are no trumpets.
No crowds gather.
Nobody thinks to take a photograph.
And yet —
what is a life
but a collection of you?
The spoon that fits the cup.
The last patch of afternoon sun
moving slowly across the carpet.
A hand resting briefly
upon a shoulder.
The quiet after laughter.
We are forever looking upwards,
it seems,
waiting for the heavens
to astonish us.
Perhaps we have mistaken
distance for wonder,
size for importance,
noise for significance.
A mountain is undoubtedly impressive.
But it has never waited by the door.
Nor brought slippers.
Nor known, from the particular sound
of a cupboard opening,
that something excellent
may shortly occur.
So let others have their oceans,
their comets,
their mighty waterfalls.
I shall remain here,
closer to the ground,
where wonders are easier to miss.
And if anyone should ask
whether I have encountered
anything awesome today,
I shall tell them yes.
Though, regrettably,
only half of it remains.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Garth — a bull terrier with a fondness for books and the finer things in life. He has kindly agreed to read Ode to the Small Things. Biscuits may have influenced his decision.
First published in Fiction Shorts on Medium.