Easy Unease

As it does every year, Summer has arrived on hazy wings of gold lifted by the soft breezes of birdsong, lighting upon the plethora of greenery that had exploded overnight in Spring. Birds are fledging, if they have not already, and young squirrels are making their ways in the new world as they play the days away.
Outwardly, I am still. I greet the mornings before the dawn, and bid Apollo goodnight as He ties up loose ends on His everlong journey through the skies. Inwardly, my heart is a hummingbird, my blood dangerous rapids. My outer appearance hides the juxtaposition of the swirling storm within. A confused restlessness (akin to a constant pacing with a tiny room that offers many comforts, but where one simply cannot sit) stirs and offers no solution. I can imagine only one cause.

Wanderlust.

I have been here for too long, and have gathered moss. My skin itches for adventure and newness. However, financially, this is just not possible right now. As such, I turn to my books and drawings and poetry and music.

Do you ever feel this easy unease? How do you approach this animal?