I am in the universe
like a small child at a fair

The universe offers a line
or a poem
a surprise balloon

Sometimes
like that small child
I am distracted from my poet self
by the pragmatics of this all too busy life

But if I let go that line or poem
like a balloon it soars away.

So I sit
this cold and rainy day
cars and concrete and cares all set aside
and joyously I write.

December 20 2022