Day 263: Contentment

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∴

isn’t it funny how contentment comes?

by the simplest of recipes,
i am fed
and fully satisfied:

 

stiff flour,
like dried mud,
on the wrist,
remnants of my kneading.

the aroma of bread as it completes it’s bake
and the crackle of crust as it rests.

the weight of yarn,
knotted together,
and laid –
with the history of the hands that made it –
upon my lap.

the last Russian Tea Cake my mother made,
and licking my fingers clean.

the smell of amber and smoke.

one note, played purely.

a full pantry.

a new spice.

thick socks that i only wear
when no one’s looking.

catching waterfalls of popcorn
and holding in a bowl
as my little one
nestles on my thighs
and smiles back, unperturbed –

as if popcorn always does that.

 

a prayer that keeps repeating
without me having to say it.

Lord,

Lord,

Lord…

please.

and

thank

You.

 

 

how simple and pompless
the greatest comforts come.

 

so i ask myself,

for what do you strive?
what proof of worth is kinder?
what achievement could be richer than this?
what life is more gentle and happy
than the one that is lived
by delighting in the mundane?

∴

 

 

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