Title: Two Seasons
Every day, I sit in front of this screen,
Fingers itching to write,
Desperate to fly across the keyboard
Like horses in the wind.
But my mind is stuck,
Slogging through a mire of emotions,
Constantly distracted
And unable to come up with words
To paint a picture
Of the wild world in my head.
There are seasons in my life where
Words flow like water,
An unending cascade,
So strong that that the current
Threatens to pull me under
If I fail to put word to page.
Yet, other seasons feel like drought,
Bone dry and cracked
Like unwatered earth.
No ideas want to form
And though I rage like a desert storm,
All I kick up is dust,
Unformed thoughts,
Images that can’t be put into words.
These days I am in the second season,
Stuck in this in-between,
With a desire to write and be heard,
Yet unable to form the stories
That live on in my mind.
I miss the season of stories
That just flowed
From the heart.
All I can do is hope
That I will get unstuck
In the days and months to come,
And until then,
I will be grateful for the days of plenty,
And find joy in the days of few.
Little Silver Leaf 