Sometimes my creative juices freeze
then like a bird I flit and flitter
from one path to another
sit and shiver.
Like a lonely lark.
Sometimes they thaw
but not enough
so the thought is there
but cannot reach from my brain
through my heart
to my hands.. ..
In other times my mind is woken,
shapes fly from my fingers
hot sharp ideas stagger me with their invention.
Later, all is quiet again.
The mood has stormed its way through me.
Calm descends and I am lost in fog again.