i just found this lovely little poem:
The Patience of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes.
How soles of feet know Where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience Of ordinary things,
how clothes Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs. A
nd what is more generous than a window?
Source: Another River: New and Selected Poems