Happiness

A friend sent me a poem by Jane Kenyon yesterday. I thought it was striking and poignent and it made me go read more of her work. I had started reading her a year ago, when this friend had first sent me one of her poems, but I had forgotten. A woman who struggled with depression, who worshipped nature and the simple beauty, and who died of a blood cancer-there is a lot that resonates with me.

There's just no accounting for happiness
or the way it turns up like a prodigal ...
No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who files a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town,and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.
-Jane Kenyon