Poems swim up unsummoned
When you are not fishing.
Like wary young sunfish they nibble
But never bite on your nightcrawlers
Or settle like a charter flight
Of waxwings noisily snackbreaking
On smoky blue cedar berries
Before resuming their scenic tour.
Poems are showers of falling stars
Caught by the camera you thought
You aimed at Halley’s comet or
The big dipper over New York City.
You might as well try to net
A sunbeam, corral a hurricane
Or harvest snowflakes as tame
A poem to come on call like
A hummingbird to a sweetwater feeder.
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