Saturday, March 27, 2010


Words don't come unless you
invite them in,
make a soft, inviting place
for them to rest.
Open the shades all the way and
let in the light. Let it
warm all the dark, secret places
that have grown cold with neglect.
All this hiding, scurrying like a squirrel
has made you small, pale, peevish.
Words float back in through
cracks in windows, under the door.
You can't keep renewal out forever.
Spring shoots its way up through
cold ground and blossoms at your feet.
Know enough to hold on, to notice
the sky above you and the birds
swirling over your head.
Hear them. Don't think.
Be present.
The light and noise and warmth of rebirth
will wrap around you and make you new again,
make you write again.
Even in the dead of winter you can
smell the words
unfurling beneath your feet.

No comments:

Post a Comment