Writers block often visits me in these middle days of spring
. Sitting at my desk
with the instruments of my trade at hand, I stare out the open window
letting my mind wander and scamper about with nesting bird
s and skipping squirrel
Through the open window I can smell the rich loamy
after effects of a sweet morning rain
. It's difficult to think of anything except the wonders of nature
at a time like this, this time when writers block so often visits. I keep it on my desk next to the mallard
decoy I received as a gift from my niece
I learned early on that its hard corners easily scratched the delicate wood
of my desktop. At first I simply set it on a book or a stack of completed manuscript
, but often as not it would fall over and eventually scar the aged pine
It was just last year that I started keeping it in a Crown Royal
bag. The soft purple bag was just the right size to hold my writers block and prevented any unsightly furniture damage.
These days of spring when it gets me the worst I keep it close so that I can softly stroke the supple
purple fabric in one hand and absently twirl my pen in the other. I sit in my chair and wait.
I watch the squirrels. I smell the earth
. I listen to traffic go by. I rarely get any productive writing done in these days of spring.
I wait, I watch, and I think
. All the time, my block is with me, and the next time those punk kids
try to toilet paper
my tree, I'll be ready for them. Right out the front window from my old office chair
, I'll bludgeon
one of those trespassing little bastards
with my writer’s block.
If you don't think I won't, you’re welcome to sit on the sofa
next to me, and wait, in these days of spring.