I don't want to write. I don't want to read.

I just want to lie in my bed like a seed,

Aware of the sunshine, its brightness and warmth,

Not 'on me', nor 'in me',  just 'for me', today,

With its rays marking bars on the floor.

The whole room is glowing, the curtains, the walls,

The smiling photos, the spread on my bed.

But not me.

 

'Don't worry, dear Sun!

It's just a low moment bombarded by thoughts

About pills.

So often, to help you they harm you, and add to your ills.

I've got 'cancer pills' now.

The side effects are a lengthy list

And I'm a little scared.

Ha! I'm really scared!

But now, dear Sun, I am finished with 'talk'.

I am fully ready to go for a walk.

GET UP AND GET OUT! 

Best medicine ever, a quick step about

Enjoying the spread of magnificent trees,

The sky canopy, the birds and the bees.

Such busyness now going on!

 

I know I am blessed because I can do it.

There are many sick people who can't,

Or won't.

Mind you, dear Reader, in lighter vein,

Writing is really splendid for courage.

It broadens and encloses simultaneously.

Interesting, that.

It's always a challenge, isn't it?

The big, three 'B's':

BODY, BRAIN and BALANCE!

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas, May 2020