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Contentment: A Meditation
by Ed Bennett

My dog does not have a
a summer house
by a languid beach,
just a bowl
and a rug
under my roof‐
a tenant glad
to guard my door
for regular meals
and a ball to chase
across a patch of lawn.

One wonders about
the kind St. Francis'
preference for them,

beasts of hearth and field
to whom he preached:
the indolent cat,
the frantic titmouse
who could not listen

yet they paused
at words from his
saintly lips expounding
about the Divine,

this monk who had
no 401k
or seaside manse
to his name,

just a cowl
and the joy
of terriers running
across a patch of lawn.

From a forthcoming posthumous collection On the Porch by Ed Bennett (Quill and Parchment Press in conjunction with Angela O'Callaghan)  

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