ordinary magic-lore

ordinary magic-lore

over the weekend, we were all unwell
especially our little one, tender with high fever
requesting her papa and i to narrate stories all day.
so we took turns and told stories, mostly self-composed,
in-between cleaning, cooking, resting
and eating mulberries, reminiscent of our wild childhood.

now, saanjh is off into a healing sleep beside me
and the clouds are dreaming in the sky.
as i sit down to write, i realize
i'm always retelling the same narrative
of days made of birdchant, starsongs and the nomadic wind
of gathered foliage and fragrant seasons
of silences and our uneventful everydays.

of a life that’s made of ordinary magic-lore
like the ageless unfolding of sunrises and sunsets
their recital lingers in me
and i'm content to be living this life
sometimes preserving their notes, here
and other times letting them remain unsung in my heart.

it's a beautiful place to be.

. . .

monday, mid morning
the seventeenth
vaiśākha