Poetry About Contentment

Bread cools beneath a folded kitchen cloth. Rain works softly through the vegetable beds. No message waits that cannot wait till morning. The old chair knows the shape of my tired back. I do not ask the hour to become more. Contentment enters when counting finally stops.

Return once more to the exact detail. Rain works softly through the vegetable beds. Its silence contains more than we expected. I do not ask the hour to become more. Careful seeing becomes its own reply. Contentment enters when counting finally stops.

Bread cools beneath a folded kitchen cloth. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. No message waits that cannot wait till morning. It returns us to enoughness, stillness, gratitude, ordinary pleasure, simplicity, and peace without possession. I do not ask the hour to become more. The day continues with a more attentive heart.