I can't seem to think of what to write.
I think and think,
But nothing comes to mind.
It's as if I load up a website,
And in big red letters,
Flashing and bright,
It says,
BLOCKED.

.                                                 sea and sand,                                          .
                ­                          salt and surf, foam and
                                       froth, greet and gather, tumble
                                    and turn, rock and roll, spray and
                                 spin, cross and current,                roar        
                               and rise, crash and curdle,                mix
                            and mash, blend and bash, drip
                         and drop, pour and plunder, leap and
                     layer, mound and mist, shine and sheen, scoop
                  and scale, spread and span, fall and falter, leap and
               layer, splash and spire, bubble and brine, writhe and write
         s             e            a           w           o           r            t           h           y

Rain water overflowing
our garden bed, now
a bright green in the
fresh morning dew.

Picking up fresh herbs,
surrounding grass,
tiny lavender flowers
sprouting sporadically
in between coarse leafs,
our own starry night sky.

Dripping trees in bright
sun rays of first hours,
stretching far beyond roots,
colors previously dull
now beaming rainbows.

Bringing out twinkling
powder, light pollen
into nostrils, sneezes
from red noses, blushing
cheeks with moist heat of
the fresh rainy days of
a liberating summer.