And in Support of Happiness

 I'm habituated to thinking
myself unhappy.
As if it were an unconscious virtue
Yet thankfully
I'm incorrigibly happy,
despite my grumpy habits,
so carefully nurtured,
from decades of needless judgment

There are these smiles
that erupt from the sky
like clouds
or blue

And  well worn worries, prejudices against
Wealth, power, freedom of choice, especially
Pointless choices that still, somehow, seem
To make us happy.
It's weird