Mundane

A poem of craving a life of my own, and a golden hour gallery with my babes

How wild of me to crave a mundane existence 
A morning routine that consists of a warm mug and a stroll through the garden
Plucking at the weeds and dead flowers
Golden rays shattering through the zinnias and carrot tops 

How wild of me to crave a mundane existence 
Sourdough bread dipped in a midday soup of beans and broth sprinkled with thyme and flakes of salt 
A book with my babies 
An afternoon of craft and folding the washing and cleaning up the toys 

How wild of me to crave a mundane existence 
A home cooked dinner at my old wooden table 
Gratitude for our food and day 
Before slumping into bed
Beside my love 
In our home 

No borrowed bed
No kitchen that’s not my own
No shared spaces
No more constantly on the move
No stressful nights of planning and problem solving 
No storage sheds 
No packing boxes 
      No
           More
                       .

How wild of me it is then, to crave a mundane existence 
In a time that we can do it all
Have it all
Be it all 
How wild
To want a simple home 
And a mundane existence