Just thinking...

Busy Bees

BMy day is filled with tasks to be done

When you become an adult, there is no time for fun.

As busy as busy bee’s flying from flower to flower

I run like a chicken with its head on fire.

Laundry to wash

Dishes to load

Appointments to make

Even if I leave one task, I feel like my life is at stake.

With an endless list of things to do

“Being busy” has become my life’s main goal.

The chirp of birds catches my attention

Finally I walked out to the sun to ease my tension

Flowers blooming everywhere,

Emerald green grass dancing in the air,

Spring is here, and I finally see

That nature gets everything done without any hurry.

Life unfolds in silence beautifully.

Why do I then put myself in such a misery?

Let me put my legs up and smell the breeze

After all isn’t life made of these kinds of small memories?


3 thoughts on “Busy Bees”

  1. I could feel myself relax half way through the poem. I have been pondering often lately at how productive busy really is. Seems its chains, not the freedom we think it will be.

  2. Yes! This is my life. I am a chicken with its head on fire. Even now, I’m typing while my kids pepper me with requests and the kitchen is a mess and the laundry needs folding and, and, and, . . .

    But there is also a kitten to cuddle and April snow to marvel over. I guess we have to train ourselves to take a moment and breathe.

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