The Barrens

If life gives you writer's block . . .

The Barrens

In the barrens,
sometimes the spring
rises out of the rocks,
sparkles
with promise
then disappears
without a trace.

Somehow
it's worse,
that sparkle of hope,

The barren rock
at least
was honest

Now,
hearing the faint
drip of a word
I seek more words,
but the poem
stays hidden
stubborn
beneath rock.

Ear to the ground,
I almost hear it
rushing

But no,
it is only the effect
of ear to shell,
not the sea,
nor underground river,
but air,
dry
empty.