bereft of insight, for a time

my spring of creativity

here I sit on a balcony

overlooking the great Pacific Ocean,

gale wind tosses the palms

and crashes the waves upon the North Shore of Oahu,

and I feel tired,

bereft of great insight in reaction,

it’s as if I’m paying a toll

for the rawness and sensitivity I’ve been feeling,

it’s as if there’s a creative spring in me

that was all wound up with unactualized potential,

and it has released its energy in poem after poem,

and in photo after photo, the last couple of weeks,

now I need sleep,

or mindlessness,

or getting back to work,

to recharge,

to rewind the spring of my creativity

so that I lose my insulation

and quiver anew with the shock

of how wondrous a moment in nature can be.

by Henry H. Walker

March 10, ‘16