i did it AGAIN

[kellan_the_tabby]

it's finished
you set down your pen
hit save & then close
tuck the pliers away

you are hollowed
echoing, empty, exhausted
you exhale
one long, shuddering breath
the well has run dry

you despair

numb
you see the chaos you've left:
inksplotches across crumpled paper scraps
(you'll gather those for the woodstove; good kindling)
scattered scraps of copper
(the junkyard will pay for those,
or sometimes -- they know you --
offer in trade an oddly-shaped piece,
something they haven't melted down yet)

hollowed
with nothing left, you clean
(it's cold this morning,
perhaps it would be wise to start a fire)
(here is that scrap, what does it
remind you of, when you hold it just right,
perhaps it is a bird)

empty
you rest
gazing out the window
the fire warms you as
you tumble the copper scrap over & over
between your fingers
the birds flock to the feeder
chattering the latest gossip
(the guys at the junkyard
as eager to tell the latest
as any goodwife over the back fence)

it reminds you of a story ...

of a bird ...

you dip into the well ...

it brims.