Windy

Sometimes the cursor floats above the screen, making slow circles.
The intent is to write something.
Maybe something profound that I can come
back and read and think,
"Ah yes, I remember that thought, that feeling."
But I'm just typing now
and not saying much of anything.
Maybe I will next time.
I try to search my mind for
things that must be there
somewhere,
hiding in some corner somewhere.
But they escape me as though they were
like a dropped hat on a windy sidewalk.
You bend to pick it up,
but another gust
comes along to
push it just
out of your reach.

Maybe that will describe my day today.