Poised with pen in hand again
and stabbing at the page,
I think and if I am because
therefore doesn't get a look
in at my door.

Still poised
like a heron on a diet.

Daybreak.
I watch the miraculous, which is
an everyday occurrence
but miraculous it is,

brainstorms
wreak havoc
I seek sanctuary from the winds of change
while the beggar asks, 'any change'

guessing, one man's meat
is another man's poise
and he goes on because of the loop
eyebrows droop
regroup
reform?
hmm maybe,

but the salt on a fried fish
tells me only
that the fish had happier times.