Day 11 – Writer’s Block

Writer’s Block

Sometimes,

I beat poems out of me like eggs for banana bread.

Wrangle them off to do lists,

And beat the words off my bean boots.

I wish they’d flow like rivers out of my hands. 

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Week 42 – Banana Bread

Banana Bread

There is something in the way the wind moves.

I am a small tree, clinging to the roots I can put down.

It is too sunny, too hot,

And yet I love the imperfections.

Teach me to love the summer again.