Hill Farm

Caressing the forbidden kiss,

with concern hidden in the breeze,

the earth is held in the lap of contentment.

Desire remembers silky grass

brushed by a sky, protected by distance and space.

Vivid desire

Calm seclusion

Pictured past

Remembering the hill farm peered through grass

Happiness Pump

Centered. Touching the core. Endorphins rushing, climactic.

What primes this pump, that cool draught drawn from the depths and gushing in a burst of joy? The handle raised and lowered to extrude pure happiness is not levered against a single sweet spot. It is pressed against many fulcrums: the softening of the facial muscles; the upward turn of the corners of the mouth; that momentary retraction somewhere near the heart; the relaxing of the eyes upon the distant horizon.

Can we not choose to be happy?