‘I want to write a poem’

never works for me.

I have to wait.

I have to go to the places

where inspiration lies.

Sometimes I glimpse it

quietly sleeping

in a grey sky full of rain,

or shouting for attention

through the flowers and birds.

Sometimes I glimpse it

within myself.

And I have to be quiet enough to hear it.

A blog post from a writer I admire

sparks a train of thought,

or I glimpse an old quote in

a book, inspiration travelling

across time and space.

Or I walk.

Usually I just walk,

and the world nudges me

into attention.