Happiness

( A friend visited, and did not like to see the tears in my eyes, my tiredness. "I am a river of sadness, " I sighed. "Well you can't be," he said sternly. "There's no such thing. Rivers move and change and take things away with them and pick things up, like flowers and happiness. Write me a happy poem!"
So Giles, here is my happy poem. It is the story of my first walk in too many weeks to count.)

Under a blanket of sky

We walked, my brother and I

down to the field of gold.

You pulled up a blue chair

I sat like a queen

in the path of bees

and butterflies

and seeds.

I wiggled my toes

in the cool fresh grass

and unfurled my wings

a little, at last.

Sunlight!

You plucked me a flower

Pink on the rim, yellow within

Oh magical hour

Walking in the light

Under a blanket of sky

My big brother and I.