On the Afternoon Before Christmas

I wrote this poem 6 months ago or so and came across it today by chance. It strikes a chord with my mood this afternoon so I have decided to post it to the blog in lieu of words more contemporaneous. It was the afternoon before Christmas and I was home by myself, the dogs were both snoring, one on a chair and the other on the couch.

* * * * * * * * *

That it’s worth doing well

Doesn’t mean it’s worth doing

If no one else will ever know

Or care or tell

Unless you feel compelled

The way a swan plays the trumpet

As if it’s a necessary part of what

Or who you are and what

You have to keep doing

To stay alive

That’s what poetry

Has to become

Your daily meditation

And prayer

You don’t need a license

But it does take

Constant practice

So you can close your eyes

And pluck the truth directly

Out of thin air