It Happens

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I can see it coming,
small in the distance
just a spot at first,

but I know
it’s coming for me
sure-air, clear
cross-hairs
frame my soul,
zero-in
on my languid pen

til, joyfully I bolt
for the house, tear
through dark rooms,
turn on my dim light,
and breathlessly wait
for the poem
to strike.

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2 thoughts on “It Happens

  1. I know this feeling – the excitement of those first creative labor pains of a poem, the suspense and urgency, waiting for the words to start flowing! (Enjoying your poetry and have subscribed.)

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