New Arrival (Poetry)

The first poem of the year
totters in unsteady
shy and not quite ready
for the light

Birthed in the early hours
it blinks and hesitates
while each word separates
left to right

Exploring the blank page
it slowly finds its feet
lines up four verses neat
black on white

As yet it has no name
the mere gist of an idea
set on germinating here
this dark night

Then suddenly a fifth
and final stanza hardly breathing
struggles out even
as I write ...