{#winterlight: and on that note}

ready or not

  A poem went looking for its author.
  “Ready or not, here I am,” announced the poem.
  “Just a minute,” replied the author.
  He selected three new pencils and sharpened them
and set them in a neat row on his desk. Next he strolled
to the kitchen to boil water. While his tea was steeping,
he brushed his teeth, washed behind his ears, and clipped
a few stray hairs from his mustache. Then, teacup in
hand, he returned to his study. He arranged himself
at his desk, picked up a pencil, and prepared to write.
  The poem had slipped away, without a word.

– Bruce Bennett

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