The sun shines through the ordinary window,
casting light onto the floor.
Do we call it spilling, or beams of revealing?
where does the light come?
Ordinary plants are drinking in its warmth,
converting to food, photosynthesis.
Ordinary bugs fly to and fro in its depth,
a cycle of life revealed.
In tender wings, graceful colors,
dazzling hues ablaze.
Then you ask, "Is anything really
ordinary in this precious day?"
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