He couldn’t afford a real home. But he did have rich black soil, and a door, gifted from a stranger with midnight-blue eyes.
By day he planted an orchard. By night he slept beside the magnificent door.
He was content. Owning one thing of beauty was enough.
One morning, four sturdy walls appeared. A roof, a hearth, the first blossoms.
He called out, in gratitude and celebration, “Dear stranger, come! There is room enough for two.”
By day, they pick apples. By night, beneath midnight-blue skies, they fashion a door for the next gifting.
Enough, and more than enough.