by Andy McMaster
Deep still into the winter, the night frozen
only gives a grudging way to the sun. Nuthatch smartly attired
and quick in to breakfasting up the sheer pine, noisily seeking starters
and now to the supply of nuts hung on a rust encrusted iron post.
The nuthatch, sublimely strong shoulders a bantamweight boxer
would be proud of; no neck, just pure strength and sharp dining beak.
Robin, blue tits, gossiping sparrows all active alive on this blue black,
grey, deep winter’s day.
Happiness is being. Joy, deeper, is being aware of the magic
constant around you: a gift. Joy and sorrow,
passing acquaintances on nodding terms.
And yet they balance each other perfectly.
Yesterday the grey day; the bad news; the illness.
Today eggshell blue sky and the flight of birds following today’s meal
to go find and singing, singing praise.
Joy and sorrow, today, tomorrow.
I believe the answer is just be you.
That is happiness, at times
touching on joy.