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.

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