INSPIRATION

When I am tornadoing through my day

like the Tasmanian Devil,

and my mind is clamoring

like a Pachinko palace,

and my hands are in

way too many gooseberry pies,

and my attention is distracted by distraction,

and doubt, thank God, has fled the scene,

left through the doggy door

whimpering like a mongrel

back to the junk yard (good riddance!),

you ambush me

with your grace, your soft voice,

your message: a sudden thought—

that thinks me and I am lucky enough

to overhear it. It’s Inspiration

that arrives like a door already open

that I am standing inside of,

or arrives like the next clue

to finding the buried treasure

that is already mine,

as long as I move toward the X

like Blackbeard standing tall

at the prow of his pirate ship.