I am not a poet…except when I am. This inexpert verse spilled out of me one night in 2018 when I re-read “The Second Coming” by Yeats and then made dinner:

I don’t lack conviction
so much as confidence
as to what is the right course.
Daily paralyzed
by the age-old question,
“What do you want
for dinner?”
Fixing the world
goes on the back burner.