Tuesday, November 4, 2014


        As this day hovers between dark and light,
        I’m sitting here, just waiting for a bite,
        A nibble on my morning’s line of thought,
        Sensing there’s a poem to be caught:

        That could be it right there, and I might stop,
        And happily watch my small fry flip and flop,
        But something urges me to cast again:
        This verse has not yet reached its last amen;
        It wants to sing its full soliloquy
        And realize the grand capacity
        That lies within a sonnet’s longer reach,
        And so again I ardently beseech
        My ever-generous and compliant Muse
        To spark my flame, and she will not refuse.