poetry

Duty Calls

some days i write
and it is easy.
it feels right,
it feels done,
and i sit back contented.
other days i worry it
like a dog
with a bone
and it refuses
to lie down
and rest
completed.
it calls me back
time and again,
the stubborn mutt
that will not
give up the rabid bark
of incompetent alarm.

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