Words are my world

Words.

The silent clack clack clack

of the keyboard on my computer .

I love the keys on a Macbook,

no spaces for crumbs to fall through

and gather at the bottom

for ever

and ever more.

Today I've seen Ernest Hemingway

clicking away,

and all the authors of my

generation and beyond.

I had to remain really focused today

when all the while I wanted honeysuckle

and

night blooming jasmine

and thoughts

and questions of how long it took

Shakespeare to write a sonnet

or Coleen McCullough The Thorn Birds.

The words went on and on ,

a river running ever,

towards the sea.

Now,

I'm home

and in three different rooms

the clack of the keys do different things.

One, programming,

the other,

on Facebook or MSN.

Words.

Old.

New.