It is So

It's not that any "thing" is ordinary or extraordinary; it is only perception that makes it so. 

Here, the crash of an old, yellow "Brown Betty" tea pot laced in fine cracks, wrinkles, tea wisdom, crashes to the kitchen floor in a hundred possibilities of waking up. 

Here too, the recycling truck outside my doors beyond the gate and up the driveway opens up and accepts the leftovers, two weeks worth of packaging and then with a gulp and roar moves on. 

And here, the whirlwind, whizzing blur of hummingbird wings, compact, aerodynamic body with long beak sips a sugary offering on grey, dampish autumn day. 

Before now, when young, I used to "try" and look at "things" from a different point of view. Lying with head over the edge of the bed, getting up high and looking down, squinting, tilting head from side to side, one eye open, sensing that all was not as it appeared. 

Ahhh, look outside, the hummingbird has settled, resting on the perch of the red feeder, its beak dipped into the nectar. No questions asked.