Poetic State

Sometimes sitting

in morning light

surprised by sweetness

in silence

or tiptoeing along 

attuned and musical

I happen again

into that poetic state

the righteous rhythm

of awakening 

to an earthen gratitude

which is what means for me

to have a poem.

Sometimes still 

I refuse the quiet

its silence

or silence feels

anything but sweet 

and what then?

Either I call for help -

Ben Howard

Van Morrison

Patty Griffin -

to listen scrounging

for the sound and soul

of the poetic.

I do that or else 

I simply bob along 

intoxicated

by the gray mattering

patter of the everyday

and I go away to work

without singing.