Walking the cat

Sometimes, a poem arrives,

uninvited, gifted whole,

it already knows your name.

It is not a good time for this guest,

you might be walking the cat

or washing up - the poem has arrived –

you peel off your damp marigolds

you give in to the insistent rhyme;

the words demand paper.

Your pen writes, you forget

your name, the cat, the dinner plates;

a poem arrives -  sometimes.