By Ron Hickerson
Lately, I've resisted going outside.
It must be my bad chemicals. When my
Brain ceases to produce or process its
Feel-good juices, I stop wanting to do
The things that give me life and hide behind
My excuses and self-condemnation instead.
Let's go for a walk. It's too hot outside.
Have you drunk water? I’d rather lie down.
Have you eaten? Everything sounds so gross.
Have you made any art? What is the point?
The point is this: a greater force acts on
Me, an object at rest, and I walk in
The woods with my girls and explore the creek
Behind our house. We wade in the water
Until we're soaked and laugh as we splash and
Squelch in our rubber shoes. I look up at
The trees rippling with light from the creek
Reflecting sunlight. And the trees can't get
Enough of it –- drunk on water and sun.
And I can't get enough of it, either.
Ron Hickerson helps college students navigate the murky waters of academia. When he's not advising, you can find him wandering the campus, looking for the oldest trees or writing at his desk. His work has been published in the Clayjar Review.
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