A poem on following wonder.

Don’t even think about it.
Poetry isn’t made for the controlling mind.
Poetry is made for the open, available heart,
empty but full
ready but not waiting.

Like a slow-rolling thunderstorm
the words come when ready.
Sometimes slow, large drops
others: torrents and a splash.

Don’t even think about it.
Be a conspirer instead,
communing with the loveliness of a deer
or the bony curve of an ankle.

Who knows where this or that goes?
Follow to enter the sublime wonder of uncertain creation.
Who knows where this line goes?
Follow.
Trust.
Make your availability to inspiration known.

✾