Writer's block

As many writers seem to set aside

Certain hours each day for quiet times

To concentrate on turning out their rhymes

Or chapters for a novel, I decide

That I will do so too, and yesterday

I went into the woods, sat on a bench,

And started writing, hoping to  retrench

The fallow hours that currently hold sway

Forming verses with consummate ease

While I sit surrounded by the trees

Which mark the progress of this woodland Ride

Between Bohemia Road and Shoredean's side.

          It didn't work; the Muse was still in bed

          So I went  home and cut the grass instead.

Brian Hick August 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 22.8.22