pause on wet mountains in tall grass, run through leaves of yesterday.
Blue horizons and winter’s breath.
Stand beneath sheltered eaves, huddle in doorways and under soft sheets,
Rest in comfort within the stark night,
with stars fixed in time,
listen to the building of a season,
the mounting of a storm.
Be consumed by the pace of change from one to another and on to the next,
live without regret in a falling November.
I remember sitting on the sky bridge which connects the School of Medicine with the Hospital. My forehead pressed against the cold glass watching a storm consume the city lights in the valley below trying to gather enough strength to go home after three days of exams & 2 back to back 16 hour nights with the Trauma team most of the time spend in the bowels of the OR & SICU. And as I watched a storm roll in, writing this poem in my head, my pager went off calling me back- I had 3 thought at the moment 1. Holy shit are you kidding me?! I haven't even left yet 2. If I hurry & beat the Intern my Attending will let me open 3. I should write this all down.