I’ve written the first lines
Of a million and one poems,
With time only for beginnings,
Half-finished thoughts and undeveloped dreams.

I chase fresh starts,
Looking for Perfect,
For This Is IT.
Instead I find Good For Now.

But here, the sun is shining;
The trees are shivering into salient green buds,
And I think that’s good,
So I’ll pause, here, for now.