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.