The Way of a Poem

 

…that’s just the way it is

The bending of a wayward breeze

Tugging at spring’s first emptiness

Or where the rains beat down all day

Tonight, a sudden quietness

…and somewhere there within the air

An earnest, umbral undertone

Murmurs against the solitude

Unwilling to be left alone

It dangles, spirals, somersaults

And even when I close my eyes

It reaches deep within the heart

Pulling its strings with tender sighs

Until I follow hungrily

To place my thought within its will

Where it hovers perplexingly

One breath beyond my readied quill

Then, as I turn to walk away

Words spill, like school-children at three

Pushing, rushing, a fevered fray

Of passion and timidity

All in a hurry to get home

You silly, thrilling little Poem

© Janet Martin

...or that's the way it was just now...I turned to go to bed and this silly little thing insisted, 'write me!'