! Where Poems Grow

I love poems that grow out of themselves out of nowhere really like an empty window-box you’ve cleared, but haven’t any plans for and one day some seed from some bird and some meal somewhere settles in and look yellow courgette flowers sprawling delicately all over the garden path poems that grow from a random glance like someone gives you a useless present and it asks to be told its story poems that grow from that patch of waiting soil in the heart saying there’s always something to surprise, to please when there’s earth and water there, and warmth.