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Sometimes when I write, it flows. Other times the things I want to write about refuse to come anywhere near the keyboard. Words don’t jell and don’t fit together. It seems as if sense and sensibility have taken a trip out of town. Harmony is in hiding. Just the other night my posts were ripe for the plucking. Could see them parade before my inner eye, clearly, beautiful stuff. However, failed to write them down and since then they have been swimming in my head like fish. They seem to enjoy it in there. Once in a while they come up for air, but when they do, they remain silent and don’t utter a word. Yet at other times when I sit down to write, it just flows.