Poems by Mary Thomas
On my regular walk on a regular day
Before the world came to an irregular halt
I was trudging along, a seasoned traveler
On a well-worn path
When a tiny strip of paper caught my eye.
It was nestled in the grass on the side of the road
Flitting lightly with the breeze.
It was cleanly cut from a piece of lined paper
With a message that would have taken seconds to jot
Using a thick-tipped pen held by a graceful, considerate hand:
“Salt for your egg.”
With a tiny heart added as punctuation.
It stopped me in my tracks with its simple complexity
And the mystery it held that I yearned to solve.
Was this a lunchbox explanation from a mother to her child?
Or a private euphemistic message shared between lovers?
I spent the rest of my journey pondering its meaning, its origin story, its secrets,
Then affixed it to the wall when I returned home.
It reminds me to find the poetry in the everyday,
The salt for my egg.
The cramped room
The wrinkled sheets
The stale smell
Heads are bowed
Voices are hushed
Tears are shed
It is peaceful
It is loving
It is joyful
This onus a gift
This darkness a beacon
This end a beginning