A look at writer's block put to an end by sudden inspiration and a drastic change in weather conditions.
Weathersong2 by Gwendrina
Rain falls. The rhythm of hands
on small drums, a jazz percussionist
who wants to show off -- saying
he has come to wake
the desert and my bones
which have not sung in days
. upon days
The cold beat, my body’s alive, this tower
of birds startled, shaking off lint.
A blue mood that has clung
and gathered for too long ---
the hours’ ruin,