It’s peaceful out here,
sitting at a picnic table,
the breeze over the water lifting my hair.
It’s quiet out here,
children’s voices as they play on a sandy beach,
flapping of grasshopper wings,
ducks honking at each other as they swim.
A dragonfly lands on my shoulder, and starts to walk up to my face
until I gently tap him away.
It’s joyful out here,
a father takes his son out in a canoe to fish, they wave and say hi,
continue on their way.
It’s pleasant out here,
waiting for my daughter to finish her day at pony camp,
sitting in sunshine with nothing to do but read and write.
Physician wellbeing, something we search for,
something so intangible much of the time.
Yet here it is:
I worked until midnight, went to bed around 1, up at 6 with my kids
and working again at 4
– but I am sitting in peace by water and wind.
Wellness is this;
taking a moment,
a few stolen hours between responsibilities,
to do what makes one happy.
My summer feels as if a thief caught it by the tail
and yanked it out from under me.
Running, the burglar trails happiness away
and laughs when I reach out for it.
Sometimes, we have to steal back what is taken.
These brief minutes are just that;
leaning out further to snatch what seems gone.