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.
