I contemplate upon my mental ocean,
Brooding like a dove upon her nest,
When from the vasty deep erupts a notion
That only meditation might suggest.
And thus begins the turning of a verse
That builds its own momentum as it rolls,
Discovering new matter to disburse,
Which fanciful imagination doles.
But then life’s interruptions intercede,
And business intervenes to stem the flow
Of inspiration that we poets need
To make imagination’s embers glow.
And now my dog is staring at my face,
Wanting her walk, I’ll end right at this place.