Day 10: Free Verse

One of these days, I think,

I am going to write a poem

with structure –

a sestina, perhaps, or

maybe a villanelle –

something with rhyme or repetition,

something recognizable and

fully formed.

But this requires discipline,

and I have none of that in April

(are you kidding me?)

when I cannot help but heed

the garden’s constant call –

dismantle here, build there, sow these seeds

just so, and all day

bear witness to the glorious riot of springtime.

How can I write a poem with form

when the world is formed anew each day,

each moment?

There is no rhyme or reason to springtime,

certainly no repetition –

only loosely orchestrated chaos, forming itself

(most un-subtly, and in a cornucopia of colors,

sounds, smells, textures)

into free verse.