On my way home from an adjustment to my glasses, I saw a poem at the side of the road, and when one of my writing group friends gifted me a line, I felt it was all done.
The beans in the field
grow tall as deer
bounding the rows by the river.
There are birds involved.
"You should write a four-line poem every day," one of my groupmates said. It's true; it would certainly bring me here with more energy.