The Patience of Ordinary Things by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?


  1. Yes.

    It is a kind of love.

    When my mother shot herself in the right temple and died, in the aftermath, I had an agreement with myself that it was a good day if the kitchen chair in which I sat did not go hurtling across the room Poltergeist-esque.

    So, I agree wholeheartedly that "How the chair stand sturdy and foursquare" is a kind of love.

    When her brother died in the dementia of Pike's Disease and no one told me, in my fury, I was very grateful for the love of my clothes waiting respectfully in my closet. It was, indeed, a kind of love.

    And it is most definitely a kind of love that you found this particular poem and shared it with your entranced readers, Distracted.

    Happy Halloween!

  2. Beautiful, and true.
    Happy Halloween dear one.

  3. I absolutely love this one. I am not at all into confessional or elegiac poetry, so this one is my cup of tea. Thanks for having shared it, and La Framericaine, thanks for your lovely comment!


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