Hail to thee, O Ordinary Thing! Beloved
Thou never wert! If of thee I must sing
To the romantics I must revert. Because
Seriously, who even notices a handshake,
Buying bread, passing people in the hall
Whose eye you avoid if you look at them at
All? High fives, fist bumps, chatting with
An office-mate, having to trudge to lunch
Another building, same office bunch- huddle
Close in the elevator discussing what you
Ate. Yes, it is sublime, in its
Way, the unwashed beauty of the
Ordinary day, the unnoticed, unapplauded
Transience of the repetitively mundane
The ubiquitously profane.
Say it now in romantic rhyme
The Ordinary is the Skylark of our time.