i found solace too often
in penning poems
i found peace in placing words on
a plain white screen with the
tap tap tap of happy key strokes
leaving a trail of black print
like the footsteps of a fox at night
marking its hungry journey across
a field of freshly fallen snow
yet these days
the page of delightful promise
remains devoid of thought
and the words are left flying in the
ether of elusive nowhere
refusing to be caught
by the net of my imagination
for the benefit or otherwise of
readers of poetry