dry spell

Sometimes the words don't flow. Like a sewer grate clogged with leaves, the words just trickle through at the moment. They back up in my head, becoming stagnant pools where mosquitoes grow and pollen swirls. I look into the pools of my mind and fear dipping my hand in the water to clear out the crud, to make things better, to keep the flow going. A good storm is what I need, something powerful enough to clear away the gunk and muck; something to wash away the trash that has accumulated.

But this is not a stormy time. It certainly rains in here, but that serves the purpose of washing more leaves onto this blockage. I will be away for a few days coming up, and then I will return, maybe the words will flow then...

I may post once more before I leave, or maybe not...

grace and peace



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