Stressful things, like tightened strings,
Tie my stomach up in knots,
Hunch my shoulders, bent like boulders
Poised to tumble down, and clots
Of thought accrue like hardened glue,
Inflexible as concrete cots,
Yet new wonder blossoms under
Blooming sky – let fly those stressful spots.
A few weeks ago, there were some difficult discussions happening at work, which have since been resolved - but in the moment, they felt pretty intense. At the end of that week, on Saturday morning, I went outside for a walk, like I often do. I felt the warm sun on my back and the light breeze on my face, and to some degree, the stress melted away. That's the idea this poem is trying to convey,
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