But the mind always
wants more than it has—
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses—as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren’t enough,
as if joy weren’t strewn all around.
read the whole poem here
When this poem came across my screen recently, I had the kind of response that I sometimes do, a ‘must-have’, as my daughter would say.