To be content is not to be resigned.
Not to throw up the hands in bitter defeat
Not to bully into hardness hearts born to dream
To be content is not to fall behind.
But like the gratifying anticipation of a hot meal,
Like the delight of digging in and then leaning back,
Arms crossed behind the head in a vulnerable act
Of untroubled satisfaction, contentment feels
The fullness of the world. Expectant of good,
Presuming no permanence, nor even absence of pain,
She savours each hour as something sent, something gained,
And sucks the marrow out of a life not fully understood.
Contentment wears a crown of bounty on her head,
Divining love through every year of wealth and want ahead.

9.4.24