Morning form

Come now, there must be more of my heart I can outpour.
This form grants such fluidity, yet direction and solidity.
The morning blooms bright and shiny, far from glooms and demons, whiny.
The sun is high, in a crystal sky; the leaves are lush with a full, fresh green. The day ahead is far from bed: it begins to catch the dreams one's seen.
Yellow flowers in the garden, at a height of a full six feet, say, "The nightly dark, we pardon and have come, the dawn to meet."

Form

It's sad to see my blog shrivel. (I'll not say die, in denial.)
I say I look to be inspired, but of the muses, I find none. I say the world is way too wired. The blame game is just no fun.
Perhaps an exploration of a new form and style will lead to inspiration from within, at least, a while.
As I write, I like the flow, I feel the energy slowly grow. A budding blossom from a storm: inspiration from a form.