I had the idea for a poem 

but it flew past

you only have a fleeting moment 

before it reaches to the sky or the 

next flower, cue the hummingbird.

Poems are like seeds

You take a bunch of them, sparse them to the air

Some will found ground

Some will germinate to be flowers

Or big trees, some will not see light, their roots become food for the soil

they lived on.

you can take them

or free them immediately

Or it can be taken by the wind

into the assured forgiveness where other seeds go.

Take this poem while I run

for that other that might not be lost.

Some poems are proud and will only knock once;

some poems have eaten grits and will not let you go without your acknowledgment;

some poems are shy and whisper;

some poems want revenge.

you only truly know way after you’re done

and clearly this is not this moment

but I’ll venture to label this poem 

the entrepreneur: the one who took the absence of another

as an opportunity.

And so we live.