The habit of thinking in meter and rhyme
is hard to give up once April is done
The most mediocre thoughts seem sublime
when nouns and verbs into sonnets are spun
at least to the writer. It's in thinking
playing with meaning and words on the page
appearing from nothing when pen and ink
make marks that start garbled, a message
that slowly deciphered, makes more than the sense
We conjure, from chaos, the order of tense
future, past, present time's pauses and swells
Somehow the spelling transforms into spells
charms, incantations, or curses with which
A poem turns words into ways to bewitch
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