1 February – Foraging

Every morning I go foraging,
foraging for fresh finds –
experiences and sightings,
metaphors to unwind.
I search every nook of nature
to plunder its endless feast,
filling my pockets with description,
storing up assonant treats.
One ear is deep in the moment,
the other listens for the page,
letting words sigh out in strings,
trusting they’ll compose and arrange.
Language haunts me outdoors,
the wild speaks on inside;
this is the glorious double life
of idea-foraging delight.