Joy of the Job

Rewarding work feels like sunlight
through an open window.

A solved problem
flashes like a fish in clear water.

Ideas rise
like kites on a steady breeze.

The day moves lightly,
a boat skimming a bright lake.

Bad work is a coat of wet sand.

Meetings circle
like flies around a jar.

Pointless tasks pile up,
brick upon brick.

Criticism falls
like gravel in a bucket.

The clock hangs there,
a frozen moon that won't move.

But work that fits the heart
glows like a lamp at dusk.

Its warmth travels home
to a waiting mate,
a hopeful child,
an elderly parent
watching for your smile.

Then stress loosens,
the mind grows quiet,
and the years lengthen
like golden fields beyond harvest.

For a joyless job can eat through a life
like rust through iron,
while work free of constant strain
helps the spirit stay bright,
the body stay strong,
and keeps you lifting those
who depend on your light.