Once in awhile, what I intend as verse
Ascends to poetry in some mysterious way:
While praying for the Muse to please disburse
A line or image that will help me say
Whatever it may be that wants to come,
It suddenly befalls from who knows where,
Alighting in my consciousness, once dumb
But now apprised of something it can share.
Though this is not an instance of that gift
And must be thought a practice run at best,
Perhaps on my next try I‘ll get a lift
And by a passing vatic breeze be blessed.
My attitude must be that altitude
May be invoked, but cannot be pursued.