The route to happiness

Is to expect less of things,

so they say,

 

to leave alone the sorrow, 

the slaughter and

put your feet up awhile

 

and marvel at whatever 

small mercies materialise 

before you;

 

the universe of dust

in afternoon light,

 

the steam spiralling 

from the coffee cup

resting upon your chest,

 

the sparrows 

leaping into the bright blue

beyond the dirty window,

 

the cat breathing 

quietly beside you,

 

this island of time 

shrinking from you,

before the world returns

lapping at 

your feet.