Ahoy Susan
( To a fellow local poet, Susan Booth, who is taking a sabbatical)
Blank page or white screen champing at the bit,
both restless for the whip of pen or key
mind struggling for a word or phrase that fit
the image that the inner self can see.
Sometimes one finds the pitcher leaves the well
with nothing to inspire, no flame, no growth,
on other days it seems one is on fire,
the mind alive, the soul, or sometimes both.
A poet's voyage often is alone
so fellow wordsmiths are a welcome sight,
the flags they fly different in style and tone
their cargo thoughts, emotions or delight.
Set sail soon, your Muse dictates your tack,
where we in safe harbour welcome you back.
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