Someday

I will sit and wonder, not about
the laundry to be done or the groceries
to be bought or the meals to be made
or the or stories I have heard.

I will sit and I will pick up my pen,
I will open my key board
and  I will invite  the
words to fall out.

I will sit and not be held captive by,
the ice that may carpet the road,
or the car that might not start, or the
appointment to be made.

I will sit and the juices will flow,
like I am sure Mary Olivers' do, like
Miriam Toews' must, like Maya Angelou and
Emily Carr and Richard Wagameses' used too.

I will sit and tell you the story of a life,
in a way that flows and is not stilted,
a story of joy and sorrow, a story of
redemption.

Mine.

gkn January 2018