Happiness
rests lightly
upon the surface of circumstance.

A door opens.
A child laughs.
That new car smell.

Then evening changes the weather.

But joy
roots deeper.

It kneels beside the bed
of what can be lost
and loves still.

Joy does not require
sunlight.

It has learned
to recognize God
by touch alone.

A parent knows this.

The child who breaks your sleep,
your plans,
your heart sometimes

still becomes
a sacred gladness
living beneath grief.

Happiness visits.

Joy remains.