When I was twelve I wrote my first poem. It was called "The Fox."
I wrote it in class when our teacher was out sick. I didn't think so at the time, but perhaps she was making love in a field somewhere.

I hope so.

I dedicated "The Fox" to our temporary teacher who simply told us to "be quiet" and "get on with some work, or whatever."

At the bell, I gave her the poem because of the way she watched us, sniffing out any suspicious whispers.

I wrote the poem because something inside told me to write a poem.
And because I was in love.

**


Pablo Neruda wrote:

And it was at that age...poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, not silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among raging fires
or returning alone,
there it was, without a face,
and it touched me.

(from Poetry)

**

Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air
- Carl Sandburg