A few days ago it was so warm that I felt inspired… No. That’s not the right word. I was…I felt…perspired. That’s it, I was sweating. I was jogging at the time, in that way I have that makes passersby turn their heads in wonder. “I wonder why he doesn’t walk,” I’ve heard them say. It’s not surprising that they’re impressed, gazing after my flighty strides, my upright form, as I break from the norm, like the very wind itself. “Look at the way he breaks the wind,” I hear them say in admiration. I’m sure you’re feeling some admiration now yourself.
At the risk of redundancy, I’ll reiterate once more that it was a warm day. I hear you saying, “Hmm, mid March, how warm was it?” And I don’t want to be rude, but you can’t be interrupting me like that. I’m trying to tell you. It was rather warm, that’s how warm it was.
Spring has stepped her gentle foot onto the greening scenery. This advent of the balmy season inspired me, which I’m sure you’re glad to hear, and I haven’t even told you yet what it was I felt inspired to do. It’s lovely of you to offer such unconditional support. I take back that part about not interrupting me. Come over to my house and I’ll make you a drink. I’m sure there’s something here I haven’t drunk up… Or anyway, we can go to the store. I’m assuming you’re allowed to drive.
So because it was a warm day and spring had stepped in with her gentle foot, I felt inspired to write a poem. I happen to know something about poetry. I’ve read, my gosh, a couple of dozen maybe. When I was a kid we had a set of poetry books for children, and every one of those poems had a title. That’s how I knew I needed a title. You’re nodding in appreciation? It’s only natural that you would be surprised by what I know about poetry.
Since my poem was going to be about spring, I thought the word “spring” needed to be in the title. There’s a set of rules somewhere, and I think I had a copy until my brother came by one day. He needed something to take to court to prove he was still in school, and I couldn’t find the rule book after that. But I think the rule says if you write a poem about something, that thing has to be in the title.
I considered “Spring Is Here” as my title, but I thought “is” is kind of a dull word, and I don’t believe a poem should be dull. That’s just me talking. You might have your own ideas. Then I thought what about “Spring Was Here”, except that would have been a poem about last year, and I wanted something for now. Finally I decided to use “Spring Flew Here”. I know that doesn’t make sense to you. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but this is poetry, so it’s OK.
Now I was up to the first line. I wrote “I saw a bee” because bees come out in the spring. Maybe I should explain something. I didn’t really see a bee. Here in central Pennsylvania it’s still too early in mid March, although I did see some other bugs already, and when I was jogging a bug landed on my arm, so I started yelling and shaking my arm to get it off because who knows what it might want to do. It might bite me. It might deposit something.
People saw me yelling and waving my arm, and one man came walking toward me. “Are you OK?” he asked. By then the bug had flown away. I didn’t want to say I had a bug on my arm because…I don’t know, I just didn’t want to. “I was doing vocal yoga,” I said.
Anyway, on my poem, the next line needed to rhyme with “bee”, and you know how it is with us writers. Or maybe you don’t know. I don’t blame you for not knowing. Stuff just comes into our heads. So the next line I thought of was “I need to pee” ha ha! but I couldn’t use that. After thinking for a while and waking up from a nap I wrote “It flew by a tree”. Now I had two lines and a title, and I’m sure you’re thinking “Wow, that was fast!”
That’s how it is with us writers, like a river running by sometimes. My third line was “It wanted a flower” and you can see why I would say that. I just had to refer to what bees actually like. After that I needed a rhyme with flower, so I started going through the alphabet: aower, bower, cower, dower, eower, gower, hower—it didn’t seem to be helping.
And then—because I’m a writer, and stuff just comes into our heads—the word “power” occurred to me. Ah hah! “The bee had such power.” Bees do have a kind of power. They can sting you, and that’s power. Last summer a bee came after me and I ran around the house four times yelling for help, until my brother-in-law said he thought it was just a dragonfly. I’m not trained in insects. I don’t know.
Anyway, now I had a fourth line. So my poem read
Spring Flew Here
I saw a bee
It flew by a tree
It wanted a flower
The bee had such power
People, after that kind of creative outburst, I felt like I had contributed something to human civilization. So I went off to look for a beer. I wish you good luck with your own creative endeavors. I hope you have enough beer to be creative.