What Amazes Me

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What Amazes Me


Sometimes I read poems to inspire myself

to write, to sit down and notice and feel.

Draw my container for whatever we are going to agree to call…this.


When that happens, the acumen and deftness of my mentors leaves me dumbfounded, gaping 

My hands go clumsy and childish and I throw out my version of “no, you do it! I can’t.”


When that happens, I play with my kids,

I do the dishes, I feed the kitties, I take a nap. 

My dreams work the work for me, and I awaken as if never having heard of poetry at all.


What amazes me, then, is the number of times

in my waking, still not knowing and curious, 

I reach for a pen and paper…

I start playing around again.

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