Oh, These Poems

My favorite poems
are the ones that drop
into my head
like ripe raspberries
juicy and complete
tumbling themselves
in happy haste
onto the page as I
scribble and hope
to Not Be Distracted by
Practical Clocks before the
poem is done. My paper notices
first and then the rest of me sees
these poems are much more energetic
than a bowl of berries
Now that I contemplate that metaphor
for—well, not for very long
but the picture in my head isn’t
Quiet glowing berries at all but
little girls at their dance recital
or a bundle of tussling puppies.
More like that, please.