86º ~ conditions much the same as earlier posting
As I've been repeating for the last month, drafting new poems didn't seem to be the thing this summer. And, then, what do you know, BOOM, a draft landed in my lap. In fact, the first few lines began in the shower, as happens quite a bit for me. Perhaps it isn't lady-like to bring this up, but there you go. I was washing my hair when I heard the line, "Beware the stick man stripped of muscles and passing lean." As I continued through my normal routine, trying to shake the sleep away, several more lines arrived via my inner antennae.
I don't mean this to sound mysterious, but I have no explanation for where these lines began. I couldn't tell you what I was thinking about just before I heard the above, and while I heard it in my own interior voice, that voice was charged with possibility.
Eventually, I scrambled to my journal and jotted down what I could remember. And just now, I've transcribed that to the computer and revised my way into a full draft. For now, I've titled it "Notice Posted to All Midwestern Women," because the stick man is a "Prairie Devil," described in the poem in opposition to what I think of as a Southern Devil, all seduction and finery. At present, the draft is only 13 lines of medium length, four tercets and a single concluding line.
While I have no plans to push myself into a generative phase, I'm pleased to know that the skills are still there, hibernating as I gather material.