David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
An Ordinary Day
The joggers running around the lake
Looked as if they were about to give birth.
They say no pain no gain but they were
Obviously stressed out to say the least.
My exercise was throwing the ball for Clara
Who retrieved it and brought it back to me.
This routine we did every morning for the
Past year, except when it rained.
The lake was kidney shaped and was one
Mile round and almost flat except for the
Grassy mounds that were raised covered
With bushes and ash trees and silver birch.
Joggers, dog walkers and the elderly plodded
Around trying not to bump into each other
With a ‘Morning’ or ‘Afternoon’ as the day dictated.
Even young mums with pushchairs graced the day.
There was nothing special about the lake, in fact
It was ordinary as lakes go with swans, ducks and
Geese flapping about with coots and moorhens
In their wake but it was popular with folk.
But this is the thing with life, we take the ordinary
And turn it into something special, a cause celeb.
And the moments we share with strangers can
Be moments to savour in the course of the day.
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