A fog of Inspiration

 

One Long Take

 

I once read a poem about writing a poem

where a bloody-mouthed, deep-fanged muse

held the poet in its jaws.

It seemed a bit OTT to me at the time.

But lately a big cat in the underwood

is stalking my every move

urging me to spew out

what I’ve taken in.

Or else!

 

So here goes… 

The mist this morning 

has muffled every sound but that of birdsong,

counterpoint to the habitual

honking car horns, screeching brake-bikes,

rolling perambulators, smart-phone-loud-speak.

And fog bound I see in single shot coverage

the oak tree not yet bud-broken

fresh ivy tendrilling its bark

and sprouting at its root a suckling conifer

and, discordant too, the bike-lock minus the bike

and the empty park bench tipping into the fog.

Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved