HAPPINESS

I look into the world

The whole wide world

And I wonder

I wonder what makes them happy

For some it’s the sight of crisp notes

For some it’s the stick

For some it’s the needle

For some it’s finely processed sound

For some it’s a walk through the woods

For some it’s running with the air in their face

For some it’s the green bottle

For some it’s finely prepared dish

For some it’s playing the candy man

For some it’s putting the metal to the pedal              

For some it’s a walk along the shore with the surf beating gently at their feet

For some it’s putting the sphere into the back of the mouth of the lipless post defended only by a mobile tooth

And then it’s my turn

What makes me happy?

None of the above

Hardly anything

At least, not these days