How Poetry Comes to Me – Ruah Bull

Poems come sometimes
like a dog in my bed
pressing its cold brown nose
against my cheek– insisting, insisting-
wake up!

Sometimes like a cat
yowling under the couch 
until down on hands and knees
I scramble in the dust and dirt
and pull.

Then there are the ones
still as a pregnant hare
waiting for the 
winged shadow
to pass.