Heightened expectation.

Something has to spark the muse. Awaiting the untimely dispensation of creativity, I am driven into the night,empty handed of even one inspired thought to pen. By default, I then look to the work of others. Evermore consumed in the desperation and dejection that is the barren wasteland of unemployment, hopeful words are a continual feast to my heart. Here is a reading I can handle for the day; a heart that forsees future glory clipping the heels of the present..

Hush, hush, hush…

    I heard a sound, come from the ground

   All of the trees are a buzz
 Talking in tongues, talking with lungs, talking of freedom

    All of the earth is soon to give birth

  Look at the mountains alive

         Birds and the bees, insects and leaves

    All of us longing, longing for home

                
J.Foreman