Writer Between Worlds

I have nothing to say. 
Today, I just want to be quiet, 
enjoy the luxury of a light breeze 
in the dry reeds, 
the popping of their ochre in the sun, 
the crunching of white pebbles underfoot 
in the black mire 
by the lake. 
Today I want to watch 
the empty windowsills and the roofs 
reflected in the giant puddle 
the melting snow has put in my path,
the fusty wooden beams of this small cabin 
perspiring a hazy aura of steam. 
Around, blue skies scratching the backs of mountains.