A Poem Every Day

I want to write a poem every day,

every day.

That should be easy enough.

Browning kept at it, though

he rhymed and

counted beats

with bushy eyebrows.

So, a poem every day.

Something strikes you,

something happens,

something catches your notice.

– I get up. It’s light now.

I’ve the best intentions.

And see the bullfinch rising from the cherry tree,

where he’s stealing my buds.