Someday

Someday,

the sky will drop

a poem right onto

your lap, or maybe 

into your pocket. 

So be sure to check 

them; and check often.

It may not be

the sky itself that

drops the poem;

maybe it’ll be a poetic

archangel or a god.

But a poem will drop

down to you; sometimes

wholly formed and ready 

to be sounded out; and

other times in need of work.

It may begin 

with a color like 

aquamarine or gray. 

Or it may launch right 

into an anapest. 

I wouldn’t be at

all surprised if it was 

about a fugue or a

even a delicate flower

like a Spring Beauty.

It will probably have

an aroma like a gardenia or

a rose; and, a hushed and

muffled sound like an owl

flying low in a snow squall.

It will feel full in your

mouth as you begin to

give the words vocalization.

Rolling around and out

with an ease and solemnity.

Wait for it.  I have seen it

happen again and again.

When it does it is up to you

whether you act surprised

or as if you knew it all along.

But, it’ll be yours.  Your poem

full of your favorite things and

all sorts of personal innuendoes

and ash.  Things coming up

and out of you as if they knew.

As if they knew that this poem

of yours was sent to you, from

you and meant to set you free 

to become more the you you

are.  Free to be you; you alone.

So get ready for it; wait and

watch and wait some more.

Imagine how it will arrive and

what the full measure of its cloth

will look and feel like.  It’s yours.

Someday.