I hear the sound of the windchimes
the first six notes of Amazing Grace
the rush of water from the fountain
and traffic outside my window

Lighted candles burning,
in my dimly lit apartment office
scented wax and a bamboo plant
and a clock from a yard sale
still with it’s selling price

my desk is gorgeous
wooden, polished,
with a lamp in Tiffany’s style
bought from two retired republicans
gone off to live the rest of their wealth
in Arizona

a pair of inexpensive earbuds
that sing rock and roll when I work out
a brown leather wallet filled with credit cards
my favorite a golden American Express
my mother never thought I’d own

I am a homeowner
a dog walker
a bread baker
and a love maker
to a man, I call my husband
while the Virgin Mary watches over us
from her spot on the wall

I have a good life.
Dear God, I have a good life
when did all this happen?
how did all this happen?
what divine accident was I a party to?

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