Kitchen Crises (averted)

A teapot does not lament the soft roundness of its porcelain curvature
Nor does it aspire to the lofty place of honor that is the flute in the cabinet,
The glass never begrudging its harvest moon use.

A spoon does not hate its wide breadth, its unrelenting width,
And a fork never says that it is too sharp, too abrasive,
That existence would be easier as a knife.

The sniffer does not sit and consider constantly its fragile state,
Waiting for the day that it breaks in either an explosion of fragments
Or a slowly stretching crack from the inside out.

Stoneware does not cry.
The cutting board does not bleed.

And the spork does not fear oblivion.

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Calaesthetics

Stretch everyday

Marry your body and be aware of the sweet miracle of muscles
And be aware of the way they sing
Like a bow across a violin in these rhythmic, repetitive movements
Which are recommended for all adults
Even if they have never been told that they should

Take those few minutes out of each day to converse with
The living tension between your hips and back and neck
Even if it is not the formal waltz of the downward dog
But just hugging and twirling for a few seconds,
The hardwood floor under flexing toes
In front of the window facing
The yard, where you can feel the sun
And greet the day to every bird and bug –

Squeeze tight every place on your body that you can reach
Because it is as precious a gift as the wind in your lungs
The water in your blood
The earth in your bones
And the firelight in your brain.