Oh, how we rejoice
in telling people
they come to us
unbidden sometimes;
this one came
in a dream; that one
tumbled through 
and popped out
while falling
off a horse; it was
a gift, a Muse 
on a day trip
may have been involved;
sometimes it just
happens.  

Truth is? We
learn that subterfuge
early. We need to keep
some mystique around us
else they might discover
they could do it too,
and where would we be then?

Never let them see
the smoke rising from
the head at all hours,
the late night flinging
the pen across the room,
the paper flying off the desk,
the cracked screen left
after punching the old laptop.
The partner
cursing as they tell us
the typewriter is keeping them up
far too late and don’t we both
have to get up for work
far too early?

They rarely come easily — 
we are working
on them even when we
are oblivious to the Work
going on within;

if they come 
in a vision, folks,
it’s in a vision of 
a factory and it rarely smells
or sounds as it did
when it was still raw and smoking
on the belt coming to us
for final assembly
and inspection.