Not Pollyanna Poem by Richard St. Clair

I do not advertise it, but I say,
Serenity's a frequent visitor
That fills my heart with gratitude and more,
Though not each hour nor even every day.
Joy comes to me in morsels large and small,
The gifts whose origins I may not know
But when revealed I thank from head to toe,
Rejoicing as if at a royal ball!
I do not mean to be a Pollyanna,
Seeing all through ruby-colored glasses;
Yet as my life's long train before me passes
It feels like a gift of undeserved sweet manna.
I wish and hope for a world that honors life,
Renouncing all its stupid wars and strife.