It's a Jumble

Spring has been flirting with us—snow falls in thick inches, melts, then falls again. But I think that this time Spring is here to say. All the birds arrived at once this week. I stepped outside to see my Littlest One off at the bus stop, and I stepped into a cacophony of birdsong. Robin, blue jay, red-winged blackbird—I saw them all during my walk. Snowmelt rushes along the edges of streets into the gutters. The neighbor kids are running around in short sleeves.  And with the change of seasons there’s an odd, unsettled, restless energy. For me, there’s a feeling of, What's next? I wrote what I thought was the best story I’ve ever written this past December. Since then, I’ve written nothing that I’ve really liked. I started and failed two stories. Wrote one that I think is only okay. I feel in transition myself. I want to write something new, but what? I read a novel last week. Binged on short fiction. I keep hoping that reading enough good work will spark something in me,