Whatever May Come

Somedays the words            jump

       One Place
                                               then
                                                                                              Another.

                    They need to be
                                                          walked

            more often.

                                 Let the energy-
                                 The words
                                                           form            half-realized revelations.


Other times the words sludge.
    They creep around corners
or
stay back in shadows.
They play a game of catch
                                 or tag
    without predetermined boundaries
or fair play rules.

I should have practiced more.


Today they come slow.
Wrong.
Misfitting.
Scribbles as one becomes another.
      Both wrong.
Not what I wanted.
Not welcome.


Yesterday they didn't come at all.
I sat calling into the great white etherial space
without response
not even an
echo--
to remind me I was there.

I should have waited.


Somedays it's easy.
Somedays it's hard.

I try to be the constant.
I sit here.
Everyday.
Pen at the ready.
Date at the top.

Ready for the strike.
The lumbering trod.
Ready for the edge of precaution to catch
the wind of inspiration.

Ready.
Persistently Ready.