Lord, my creative juices are at a low ebb.
I have no inspiration,
no insight, no freshness.
It’s been sometime now since
I felt truly alive.
I can’t remember the last time I walked in the park,
or lay on my back in the grass watching the clouds,
or sat in my study at night
with only a kerosene lamp light,
thinking of Grand Miller
and the good times we had.
I’m homesick for the mountains,
for the smell of pines after a rain and
for the sound of the wind in the aspens.
I’m hungry for home-baked bread and country cream,
and fresh tomatoes right off the vine.
I’m so tired of books
that satiate my mind,
without touching my soul.
I want to feel.
I want to laugh and cry.
I want to live life to the fullest.
I want to love, and be loved.
Forgive me, Lord.
Sometimes I get so caught up in my work,
I miss life’s best.