COMPOSING A POEM
A moil of notions roils inside my head
As I await to see where I am led;
It takes awhile to get my brain in action
And for an apt idea to gain traction,
But once I’m pacing this iambic trail,
New paths of thought emerge that will avail.
I even might believe there is a Muse
Who, somehow, as I labor, will infuse
My mind with what I need to go from line
To line, revealing a covert design
As if I’d known from the start where I
Had meant to go and had good reason why.
To tell the truth, it’s not like that at all:
I’m lucky to get here before I stall.