The Hurdle

I like to write a poem a day; I’ve stuck to it for years, But sometimes there’s not much to say And no idea appears. It’s not the same as writer’s block ‘Cause once I get it going, The words from brain to page just flock And usually keep flowing. The topic is the hurdle So with just one giant leap I fall into fields so fertile There’s so much from which to reap. When impressions leave me stranded And no topic will ignite, I’ll succumb to what’s demanded, Finding reasons in the write.