Perhaps all the pleasures in life are small
In perspective they all get resized

The sound of a coffee cup Tom gave me
A Russian bell as a green handled spoon
Mixes in the milk, serving as the clapper
Two tones, a gentle alarm after I wake

How the cat rubs up for attention, gets it
And then plants himself just out of reach

The dollar paperbacks from the Salvation Army
The paper tanned by time, gives more smiles
Than the pristine $27.50 hardcover
A recommendation from an artist in an alley
Years ago gives me things to read even today

The way the wind pushes and pulls the house
When certain windows are open
Fresh air fills the corners and I forgive it
For cluttering the patio with debris

I can only watch baseball on Sportscenter
Crack, Crack, Whiff, Whiff, Crowd Shot, Crack
More like the hockey I wait for
That challenges my prescription
And gives me grace and contact

The way my love’s clothes hold her
A giggle of pride and excitement escapes
A smile that makes my hands reach out
To touch because it still seems so unbelievable

Two boxes on the mantle holding white gold
And my promise, and hers, and a symbol
Of our commitment

Soon, a return to the work I know
Not a return to usefulness as once I thought
Now an extension of a newfound life
Where the work of keeping a home
Lives peacefully  with the work of keeping
A home alive, a place of sharing and
Love, pride and humility, creation and maintenance

These pleasures are mine, a great gift
Momentary visions never seen before
So I hold them here now so if I ever forget
I can return and feel these simple things
And know them for what they are.