National Poetry Month, V.7.0, day 13

I've noticed this year, and was commenting on it to a friend of mine, that the poems are coming more easily than they ever have before.  I find myself with ideas, sometimes more than one a day, that arrive with a striking clarity - it's not just a phrase, but a complete image in my head, and sometimes, that differs from what gets written, but the point is, the beginnings of it are there, and quickly.  I suppose that it's really a mental exercise of paying attention to things and looking at them in a new way, and that in turn makes it easier to find poems in the everyday things.  It makes me more open to looking, and like most people, the more I look, the more I find.  That is, really the point of this yearly exercise - create the habit of looking for things, of writing about things, and of seeing something in a light that is (at least to me) new.

This morning, while I was still slightly groggy from sleep, I heard a simple sound from outside.  A woodpecker.  I imagined an entire orchestra, with different birds filling in the different instruments.  Perhaps today's offering will offer part of that glimpse.

Thanks for reading,

Me

sunrise concerto

it started this morning,
a rhythmic tapping on a tree not far away,
the percussive march-beat of the woodpecker,
followed by a syncopated chirping,
and the occasional flutter of wings
before the chorus of chickadees chimed in,
the morning symphony that greets the sunrise.
Even in the city, nature's 
six-ounce orchestra is present and performing,
if one only tunes the ear to drown out the
concrete sounds of man.