On Happiness

On Happiness
It’s underrated,
maybe too available.
One cup runs into
another and another
under that, and more,
all spilling into and over.
Yes, the virus burned
through our state
old testament style
and no one knows
anything anymore.
But here in the long,
long evening, in a
circle of trees
and summer sounds,
I am a know-nothing
party of one,
filled and overfull
and spilling
I don’t know why.
It doesn’t belong to me.
Take as much as you like.
S. Robbins, from Readings

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