Priceless, Precious, Plebeian Prize

Its prize oft sighs through us without much fuss, fame or applause

A moment-metered montage that we almost miss because

Love’s laws are such that touch is a master of common art

And humble handiwork showcased in halls of human heart

How hardly we have held It, then Today fades from time’s tray

To join its predecessors in the land of Yesterday

And all the artists of the world cannot return its vim

Nor claim the prize of it after the size of it grows dim

Happy is he or she who has begun to realize

The camouflaged appraisal of this ordinary prize

That easily we overlook if we dismiss the keel

Of day-to-day routine and mien of plebeian appeal

…but in the come and go, ebb-flow of morning to nightfall

Life renders to its spenders a prize fitted for us all

Fashioned by sighs and smiles, rationed in duty, love and strife

It unfolds through Awareness of the beauty of this; life

© Janet Martin