The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett