Good Enough

In the city, I don’t have
A terrace or a yard.
I’m envious of those who have
Been blessed in that regard.

But if I want to feel the breeze
In quiet contemplation,
I walk down to the river
For a bit of relaxation.

I plunk myself upon a bench.
The river flows below;
And watch the boats go chugging by,
To where I do not know.

Behind me, bicyclists whiz past
Or joggers, keeping pace;
But I’m content just sitting
With the wind upon my face.

It isn’t private – I must share
My view, my bench, my tree;
But like so many things in life,
It’s good enough for me.