Today I woke up and
checked the posts other people made
on websites graphic designers created.
Then I took my earthenware mug
some other soul fired
and a book another author wrote
to the great outside,
where I reveled in the plants someone else planted
until it was time to go
to the restaurant a chef crafted recipes for
and a museum filled with art that visionary hands shaped.
And none of it was mine.
And all of it was for me.
I do not know how to compare
A garden with a sandwich
Or a mug with a manuscript.
But I do know, for certain,
That today was more beautiful with them
Than I could ever express
With anything other than the joy in my heart
And the coins in my pocket.