Fingers poised on keys I wait
And hope and pray - beg, actually, for
Phrases brilliantly fused to flow
From mind and digitally march
In perfect symmetry upon the page
Nothing comes. The mind is numb.
No inspirations tucked between the
Minutes of my mundane day,
Waiting for my hands to ply them
Loose and sculpt them into form.
Earlier, a cardinal woke me with his song
Trilling forth his daybreak greeting - Ta Da!
Soon, a chorus of wren and chickadee
Joins in, as if the day needs nothing more
Except to sing and flit about in feathered glee.
I stumble out of bed and make the coffee
Extra strong to jump-start my right brain
Into creative motion. From the open window
The sweet smell of gardenia comes -
Floating toward me on fresh-morn zephyr.
I see bees hovering in leaves of holly tree,
Buzzing in profuse pollinating pleasure.
Suddenly, two Sulphurs dance by - fluttering
Their golden-winged happiness, landing
Touch-and-go on petals sparkling with dew.
I trudge reluctantly to the computer,
Hoping for an e-mail to magically unlock
The vestiges of a muse imprisoned
In the ho-hum cells of my blocked brain.
I find two forwards and fifteen spam.
One forward is filled with breathtaking
Photographs - ice-covered canyons and
Desert sands sculpted by God,
Ribbons of northern lights aglow -
Bending in palette waves of color.
The other forward - an ad for struggling writers:
“How to Remove the Blinds from
The Inspiration Windows of Your Mind
In Five Easy Steps - Guaranteed.”
Desperate - I click the banner to sign up.
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