out the spikes of discontent. Because that habit of discontentment can only be driven out by hammering in one iron sharper. The sleek pin of gratitude. I hammer. 54. Moonlight on pillows 55. Long, lisped prayers 56. Kisses in dark And in a house sleeping, my heart rings. In the morning, my Farmer Husband comes in from the barn smelling of hogs. “We lost another litter this morning.” He washes at the sink, dries those rough mitt hands, dark and work-worn, on a gingham towel draped over the cupboard.