Macrocarpas and snow in the city

This morning at the bench,
I had words that made sudden sense in my head.
I thought them out as a line of perfect poetry.
And then as I made scones from wholemeal flour
and boiled barley and lentils for a salad.
They disappeared.
Later as I chopped vegetables for soup
pieces of them surfaced as air does when a fish breathes.
There was a roaring feeling inside of me that sounded
like the macrocarpas that fringe our boundary.
Gary says it is a nor easter wind that does this. I think
it is creativity that needs a voice
and when the trees are roaring its time
to write or paint or sew.
I remembered that Michael Harlow always said to keep a notebook handy to jot down these things.
Mine was shelved in the studio, tucked away.
I shall have to wear clothes with pockets just in case.
And Sue rang to say it is a fairy wonderland in Helensburgh today