1138

Equinox

The title word was all that I had written

Assuming more would follow and that I

Would easily round it into a sonnet

Or some such form I chanced to try;

But - no - I'm stuck with these iambics

Hoping that the lines would free themselves

From such conservative versification

Yet knowing in my heart I could not shelve

The habits of a lifetime's introspection

Where the new is troublesome and hard

While the tried and tested, though a cliché,

Comes easily and rolls out by the yard.

            This poem wrote itself; I can't complain

            But craft is light years off of Art's domain.

Brian Hick March 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 18.3.24