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At home, between the TV and my book,

A gentle sluicing of the internet,

Some washing up and eating - while I look

For other things to pass the time - I get

Concerned that for three days I have not tried

To write a thing, and time has slipped away

Without a passing thought that might have vied

For my attention or caused my mind to sway

From mundane tasks to subjects that should count

For more than just routine.  But then why

Should any verse I write need to amount

To deep reflections scattered from on high

          When simple thoughts expressed in simple ways

          May be enough to bring a poet praise?

Brian Hick October 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 27.10.23