Saturday, January 12, 2008


for Copthorne Macdonald

When I don’t mind my mind, it runs awry,
Meandering and dallying all day,
Woolgathering and frittering away
Its energy, creeping when it should fly.

To elevate my thinking and defy
My natural lethargy, I must obey
The disciplines of writing and convey
Through composition thoughts more high.

For only then can mind become composed,
Its wayward notions cornered and controlled,
Aligned and orderly in words enclosed
In sentences and verse uniquely told.

Thus mental energy, first loose and free,
Is destined to be locked entropically.