It Happens

 

I can see it coming,

small in the distance

just a spot at first,

but I know

it's coming for me

sure-air, clear

cross-hairs

frame my soul,

zero-in

on my languid pen

til, joyfully I bolt

for the house, tear

through dark rooms,

turn on my dim light,

and breathlessly wait

for the poem

to strike.