Why I Couldn’t Write a Poem
(It’s Fall’s fault.)
I sat under the maple tree
With a pen in my expectant hand
To create a brilliant thing of beauty
Inspired by a warm fall breeze
But a little bee came to dance
In yellowed leaves around my toes
So I had to watch its merry twirl
And forgot to think of clever words
Then honeyed sunlight fell just right
To turn my knees a fiery gold
And I thought how odd it was to blend
Like I belonged to this autumn day
All my lovely waiting words
Spun silent circles to the ground
And crunched under the jaunty hooves
Of a doe gliding through the yard
She stopped, staring a perfect moment
As if wondering why I was there
Which made me stop and wonder too
Why I still hadn’t written a thing
There’s nothing to add to a day like this
That’s gentle and soaked in gilded light
So instead of creating a beautiful thing
I’ll let beauty create in me


Beautiful! And I just came inside from sitting out on the grass in the crunchy leaves and watching a little yellow bee. Perfect timing!
Lovely