image borrowed from bing
Days
Days are where we live.
Diaries and appointment books
are the signposts
and the instruction manual
allocates tasks for the day.
Whether these tasks be pleasant or hard,
perform them we must,
with grace and diligence.
That is the purpose of the day.
How else will we deserve
the solace of the evening?
Mealtimes and playtimes provide sustenance,
rest and recreation, if we use them well.
If friends play a role in our day
then we are to be congratulated.
Whether they alone can account for happiness,
I couldn't say.
Happiness is a rare gift,
those of us who are passengers
in Phoebus' chariot on his earth-circling
journey may catch a glimpse of it,
as momentary as the flash
of the swallow's silver wing
before it rises out of sight.
Ursula White
aka: Friko
Posted over on her site Friko's World
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