It rises like a new born spring
Bubbling up from deep within
Overwhelming every mundane thing.
An idea forms a pool of thought
Rivulets flow, streams reach the port
A bright kaleidoscope is wrought
A theme appears - tight knit and taut.
Unable now to stop the flow
The words slot into place; they know
Though I do not, where they should go
Amazed I watch each poem grow.
How does this happen? You tell me
You don’t learn this at Mother’s knee
But it’s real, a gift, a way to see
A link with the divine, maybe.
(c) Poet in the woods 2014
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