When Creative Life Feels Like a Barefoot Walk on a Stony Beach

I look at notes I've taken for future poems.  I see scraps but cannot weave them into anything that makes sense.

Some weeks, my creative efforts feel like a barefoot walk on a rocky beach.

But then I look closer, and I see that I've been here before.  I've built an altar out of abandoned houses of crustaceans.

I see a glimmer that may or may not be gold.

Even in isolated tidal pools in isolated shelves of coral stones, life bubbles.

I will keep walking, hoping for the time that language breaks through my skull and washes my brain with wonder.

(pictures from our April 2015 trip to Hawaii)