The Trickster

The Trickster

When I don’t write, I scare myself by thinking
I’ve forgotten how.
Like the first day in a new season back on a bicycle, or snow skis.

I know they say it’s simple, like riding a bicycle – you never forget.
But I forget
that when I simply take
my favourite fine black ink pen to write
on simple white lined paper,
words,
which have been patiently waiting for me,
arrive.

Sure, they might need some dusting off,
some spit and polish.

But words,
carrying and conveying
feelings and emotions,
images and impressions,
questions and doubts,
come tumbling out

often in a coherence that
startles me revealing
a wisdom reminding me
I am paying attention even when I think
I’ve forgotten how.


My mind is a trickster in this regard.

Perhaps I shouldn’t pay it
so much
attention.

– KW –