​MY BEST POEM


came at me slant one spring morning,
clothed in daffodils and metaphors,
hopping like a robin, a cautious thing
at first, its throat a hive of iambs,
then it belted out a string of trochees,
batted its big bright eyes,
quick sharp flurry of spondees,
winked slyly and disappeared.

It came back
In the middle of a long night
while I lay counting the day’s losses,
whispered solace and soothing images,
conjured a sideways glimpse of an answer,
lulling me with the pulsations
of an almost human heart,
then, while I slept, left again.

Now it sits on a branch
outside my window, head atilt,
feathers ruffled by the autumn wind,
warbling out an unpenned song,
taunting, mocking, daring
me to climb up,
jump into faith, take flight,
follow it home.