Working Poem by Gillian Commerford

There are times when I feel like doing things
and times when I do not
when I am quite content
to sit beneath a tree
listening to the cooing of the dove
the buzzing of the bee
the lapping of the water
the murmuring of my heart.
Why should I bestir myself
when I can feel the love flowing
between me and the bird
between me and the bee
between me and the tree that shades me
between me and the shadows on the grass? -
Perhaps this is all the work I need to do.