It happens. The dry spells drift in around my ankles like sand, and before I know it, I can’t seem to move my feet.
Oh, well. It happens. It will pass. In the meantime, I read your posts and silently urge you on. Don’t worry about me. I’m resting, that’s all. Getting down to basics. It happens. It will pass. I’ll catch up later.
And in the meantime, I read….
The Hill
by Mark Strand
I have come this far on my own legs,
missing the bus, missing taxis,
climbing always. One foot in front of the other,
that is the way I do it.It does not bother me, the way the hill goes on.
Grass beside the road, a tree rattling
its black leaves. So what?
The longer I walk, the farther I am from everything.One foot in front of the other. The hours pass.
One foot in front of the other. The years pass.
The colors of arrival fade.
That is the way I do it.“The Hill” by Mark Strand, from Collected Poems. © Knopf, 2014. (buy now)
HemmingPlay 
It happens. Sometimes, the brain just needs a rest to refuel.
LikeLike
Maybe the dry spell is just part of the creative process. It seems to be as common as a cold.
LikeLike
Yeah, we’re old friends. Sometimes you have to wait for the bees to fill the hive with honey. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person