writing in front of a window, my view obscured

in the early morning, it's my time to vibrate
move these words to the page, as if i may, delegate
organize the words, shake them up, give some sense
propagate, try to expand, extract  on what I want to say
it may take  all day, or a short while, still as I
look out into this window, made black by the dark
my view obscured, in a clean slate, I will stare until
the words do come, ideas made plentiful, full- born
out of trials, circumstance, stream of consciousness
and when I look down, , the lines, the fruition, a poem

By Michael Perry