Saturday, April 12, 2014

Day 12: Trials

...from Dayle

Nope, not gonna happen this morning.
I've been sitting on the porch and can't think
of a single thing to write about.

There is nothing extraordinary about the sun
rising behind the same old palm tree,
glazing the roofs across the canal with silver

so bright it hurts to look. Birds are squawking
like they always do, darting by on their breakfast quest.
The mullet are jumping for flies, leaving spreading rings.

Blah, blah, blah. Same old, same old. I look around
the porch. Gary left his flip flops by his bar stool. No
inspiration there. How can this beauty at 8:20 am

not stir me to create? I used to do journal writing
with my students twice a week. I'd look out my classroom
window. The woodsy scene out there never failed me.

And all I had was sight, not the sounds and smells and feels
like I have right here with the air conditioner buzzing
and the breeze sliding around and the baby powder scent

of flowers. No, this morning is a dud. Sorry to waste your time
with nothing. I think I'll get dressed and go for a walk.
But, I'll take my notebook with me just in case. (Smile)

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Linda's Poems