I didn't want to write this morning;
tried to resist;
but the pen wouldn't rest -
the sun, dawning
to the musical song of birds;
children gathered
for one last bit of play
before the school
bell called them grudgingly inside;
I saw it all
unfolding outside my window.

I didn't want to write this afternoon;
tried to resist;
but the pen wouldn't rest -
the sun, setting
reluctantly, s l o w l y in the West;
a few puffy
clouds floated lazily above,
riding the winds;
children animated in play;
I saw it all
unfolding outside my window.

I didn't want to write this evening;
tried to resist;
but the pen still won't rest -
Poets never
take time off ... and so, as the moon
rises, I write -
until my pen satisfies its
need to be heard,
I look out of the window for
inspiration
and allow poems to happen.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman.