Thanks For the Idea Hank

I read a poem of Hank’s and something caught me happy Suddenly my own poem came flipping out of my mind. She skidded down my nose and skipped onto the page, slip slappy. I watched her progress; she was a marvelous new find. The pig has flown, she said with a laugh. Shown, hone, cone, bone. I would have to be an idiot not to follow her creative thinking. Loan, groan, tone, zone I whispered; I wrote down pinecone and alone. Let’s get it on paper quickly she urged me, her hazel eyes still winking.