I sat down in the grass
With my headphones on
And listened
As the wind awakened from sleep
And rushed to play in the leaves
Turning the trees into
An orchestra of chimes
I heard the early birds
Up with the dawn
Join together in harmonious song
I heard flutters of feathered wings
And the song the cricket sings
Then I realized that during this concert
Of this brand new day
On my iPad I had yet to hit play

I was once capable
Of talking without rhyme.
I could carry conversations,
And I did it all the time.
I could discuss the weather
And even a bit about sports.
I had anecdotes on things like
Political crooks and cohorts.

I could discuss the stars
And the people they dated.
I could reflect on the news
And my words never grated.
I talked about history, too
And how it might affect us.
I marched in protest parades
And didn’t let them deflect us.

But something powerful
In that which makes me
Urges the words I utter
To come out in poetry.
I used to question this
But I no longer chose to.
I don’t hide my poetry
From the world like I used to.

I hear common speech and
I hear cadences and rhyming
In step with what I am doing
And pace my walk to the timing
Of words I’ve heard and talk
That makes a marching beat
That is syncopated to my walk.

So, I no longer apologize
When I am rolling on a stanza.
I look upon it as gifts from the muse,
A positively literary bonanza.
I am my words; my words are me
And if you don’t care for poetry
Listen for a while and maybe see
What truths I write within my poesy.

Darkness swirls in blackened night
That might have left me without light
Yet with me are fireflies
That gift sight for my eyes

Like a waltz they sway my lovely vision enhancers
Not to mention they are amazing dancers