A rumbling starts
From deep within
It roils and coils and leaps about
My nerves are on the outside
Wondering why they have no shelter
Why they have no protection
My fingers cannot keyboard fast enough
Ideas mound up
Molehills literally become mountains
Everything becomes big, insurmountable.
There are no toeholds in the side of this mountain
It is sheer polished rock…..
I slide down into a heap of exhaustion
Another deadline met.
This is how I feel before, during, and after writing my weekly newspaper column. Whether or not I will write a daily poem this month that celebrates poetry is up in the air…………it is an intention–but we all know where intentions sometimes end up……….