Gary Snyder shared
How Poetry Comes To Me


Driving the few blocks home
Turning out of the nursing home
Where my mother lives
Waiting at the stoplight
Where the homeless man seeks mercy
Pausing at the Starbucks drive through
Where I seek, if not mercy, at least solace
Stopping at the CBD dispensary
Sharing stories, smiles and compliments
With the young woman working there

Born many years after I first used marijuana
But more knowledgeable than me
About the chemistry of gummies
Although I likely roll a better joint

Driving away
I remember 
How Woody watched me
Bemused
Just last week
As I carefully unrolled a roach
Ate the contents
Ash and all
Then crumbled and scattered the paper remnants
I looked at him and shrugged
“Old habits,” I said
And he smiled
Rocking slowly
In his Amish rocking chair
On our back porch
That he built
Digging it down so that it is half sunken
Putting our eyes on level with growing plants

Making that last turn home
Loving the beautiful home we have made
 From a quite ordinary house
In a quite ordinary neighborhood
Because we are, Woody and I,
Quite ordinary people 
to everyone
Except each other

Coming inside
Past our Japanese maple trees
Each carefully chosen by Woody and me
And planted by Woody
My personal arborist
Walking in the back door
Into the downstairs kitchen
That we designed together
And Woody built for me

I am just in time
To prepare for my poetry workshop

That is how poetry comes to me