A Writer’s Distractions

When I struggle with putting words

to the page,

I step outside,

breathe in fresh air,

then search

for tiny miracles.

In truth, distractions

of the extraordinary.

 

 

Yet, tiny miracles always bring me back

to the place I’m avoiding.

 

I, too, want to silently dive deep,

explore a daylily (or an untold story)

unnoticed,

except for the curious human

with her camera,

avoiding her writing.

 

 

But isn’t that where magic happens?

Where the best of stories

are born?

Even if fear both propels us forward

and holds us back?

 

And then I find myself in awe of tadpoles,

having ventured for too long

and too far from the house,

on this path of distraction.

Tadpoles, which have never much interested me,

but now do.

Which invites a flood of questions,

questions about my characters,

and this story I am compelled to write.

 

So I leave my critical self outside

so she can enjoy

what the world has to offer.

Perhaps, she will find solace

in the company of a frog.

 

 

Or take the time to wonder

at how beautiful

a gorilla’s feet are,

while I slip away unnoticed

before she follows me.