8. Words

Some days the words come
     pouring
        splashing
            crashing
                soaking
caught in a whirlpool of water
spinning towards the sea.

Some days the words creep slowly,
     sucked into quicksand
         crawling across deserts
               searching the distant
horizon to glimpse the oasis
always beckoning, never reached.

Some days there are no words at all. . . . . . . .