The Hurdle

I like to write a poem a day;
I’ve stuck to it for years,
But sometimes there’s not much to say
And no idea appears.

It’s not the same as writer’s block
‘Cause once I get it going,
The words from brain to page just flock
And usually keep flowing.

The topic is the hurdle
So with just one giant leap
I fall into fields so fertile
There’s so much from which to reap.

When impressions leave me stranded
And no topic will ignite,
I’ll succumb to what’s demanded,
Finding reasons in the write.