Beneath a green-shaded lamp
thoughts cross my page like grasshoppers
skittering over blades of grass.
A beam of light casts a shadow beneath
my pen
my moving hand.
So many ideas
waiting to be caught
captured in the lines of my notebook.
No one knows
one way or the other
what I’m writing.
It’s a secret
to share only with the green-shaded lamp
who looks down at my page
with bright-eyed wonder.
Rhonda DeChambeau 