What Comes To Mind
What Comes To Mind
Busy work, not idle time,
no real thinking, blank and sublime.
Rake the grass, feel the breeze.
Sweep the walk of crispy leaves.
Washing dishes, pay no mind.
And soon the thoughts appear
I find.
Concepts flow poetically,
old ideas in simplicity.
Obvious recognitions;
never gave thought.
Now become a page of notes.
Emotions flit, flashback scenes
conclusions escaped until now.
Amazing how when mind’s turned off
natural pleasures fill its space.
Flowing thoughts
becoming words.
Things I’ve said
but never heard.
So pen in hand
I write and say
The things I busy worked away.
Copyright © Jeralynn Clark | Year Posted 2010
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