The fabric that ties
is not made of heavy yarn

But thin threads.

For lives are woven
by the mundane.

What we would not tell a passerby,
for fear they wonder why.

So it is with you that I like
to listen to the ordinary

For when I ask,
what did you do today?

And you say, "This, That, and the Other—
Nothing, Nothing really happened"

Binding threads are severed at the root.

The big things are for everyone else,
The small ones are for me.

— Abraham Menashe
© 2017