Libraries don’t mean to be
overwhelmingly wordy.
They shelve
up centuries of wise plans and absurd
When all we
are wanting is the single right word.
Home
shouldn’t hinder our green verbal inventions
But in the
way’s the laundry, or that new extension.
We have to
make friends with procrastination
As we waffle
at parties about gloom and elation.
The great
outdoors are barrier to being freed,
Cities a
hundred distractions from our need.
We may
shuttle round the Earth literally
times
Missing what
it is, and how, that rhymes.
Time to
write about finding time to write.
Some prefer
the evening, others like first light.
Vague
silence follows as we sort out our thoughts.
Art is long
in dressmaking but time wears shorts.
Just sitting
does nothing, we need space and theme,
A favourite
desk or turret, thereat to dream.
Write
everything we want to say first, then edit.
It’s not for
money when it works, nor the credit
But the
livelong credibility of what we said.
Writ just
for our own sake, may as well be dead.
Trust the
rush when it happens, the gospel’s ‘little birdie’.
