Drenched in HAPPINESS

 

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Happiness often wears a massive quilted dress

of too many puzzling tantalizing possibilities

An embezzlement of colors

from Monet’s garden shed

or his last forgotten journal

The glee was hard to figure out or define!

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Was it that matter of the pigeon that

Had arrived on Beulah’s terrace

a few days after she lost her

Alcoholic, very handsome, very loved maddening son,

who used to save all the stray and hurting,

ill treated dogs in town, and would

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Do anything to improve animal care in the City

But would not, could not, stop the whisky or the cigarettes?

Flung his good looks, good luck, love and peace away

Like old newspapers, old plastic bags and old shoes

A week after he died, suddenly, quietly, one morning,

The pigeon had laid two eggs on her balcony and then

pigeonsjeremy

Finally delivered her babies which were now tiny new

Settlers who welcomed Beulah as if she was the visitor!

She talks to them, cares for them and is happy

Though she is almost totally deaf, severely arthritic

and at 86, cannot visit all the book fairs she adored

Watches Animal Planet, enjoys it very much, reads

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Anything and everything she can get her hands on

And drinks up happiness like a child, and it reminds me

Of Handel’s Hallelujah from his Messiah more than anything else

So that could be this overloaded box of sweet gratitude!

Pics and text: daksha

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