On a Saturday morning
I write,
as rain outside cleanses earth.
While rain feeds plants hungry
As rain calls all to umbrellas
And while eyes swell
to let me know a poem is gelling
to be released.

On a Saturday morning
I write,
as a bathroom run is ignored.
While my hunger has to wait.
As the moments melt away.
And while my fingers dance
on keyboard making way
to birth a poem.