Writing of Lightning
A flash — lighting up
The underside of trees...
A stirring, a blowing,
Up comes the breeze!
Cleansing rain
Soon to fall to earth
Washes away frustration
And calls forth mirth.
A whimsy stirs me,
I eagerly grab a pen,
And write another poem
— How long has it been?
I'd started to worry
Feeling the muse had gone;
Didn't want to be deserted —
Like an orphaned fawn.
Glad am I to see
These words again flow
Relief so complete
It fills me head to toe.
Writing became part of me,
A core part of my being.
Without it I'd feel blind,
Like I wasn't clearly seeing.
A flash and a roar
My only inspiration
But the poem flows out
Without any desperation.
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- PumaWalkingSoftly<, all rights reserved. These
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