Dave Bonta's "Enough" is a tiny poem that holds a large thought: that death is part of how living things change, and that accepting this can bring a kind of calm. The alders, trees that grow in wet ground, change "through love and mire," as if growth and decay, tenderness and muck, were all one process. Then the ground itself "proves a grave," a blunt and quiet admission that the earth we stand on is also where things end.
The last two lines turn toward comfort. The speaker tells someone, or perhaps themselves, to "sit and rest," and then says "I have enough." There's no bitterness here. The speaker seems content, even grateful, rather than defeated. The mood is hushed and still, like sitting beside a stream or under trees at dusk. The short lines and spare wording slow us down, so we feel the pause of that rest. Judging by the imagery, the poem suggests that contentment comes from accepting mortality instead of fighting it.