Wandering Mind

I composed my first poem while walking across 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.. The wordsstayed with me until I reached my apartment on 32nd Street and I could writethem down. On an impulse I emailed the poem to my cousin Michael in Seattle.I still don’t understand why the poem “Frozen Night” visited me so suddenly in themiddle of a Manhattan street. But since that night there have been hundredsmore. They arrive almost daily. Some I just let pass. I write most of them down.As soon as I emailed the poem I wanted to take it back. I thought “I’m not a poet.”I was embarrassed at sharing my emotions and private thoughts with anotherperson even one with whom I’d been very close my entire life. But I couldn’t take itback—it was gone.I immediately checked my email when I got up the next morning. I hoped that somehowthe message had been returned undelivered and that my secret was still safe.It had been delivered. There was a short response. My cousin wrote “Welcome tothe world of words.”It took me two years to grasp the meaning of that six-word response.I soon began to find my place in that world. It is a good place. It has become aworld in which I belong.Michael DominoNew York City