The Scatter

You want to grab it, pin it down,

that flash of insight, clean and bright.

But it’s like trying to hold a town

of startled birds in fading light.

One moment, there, a solid thing,

the next, a whiff of something old,

a ghost from some forgotten spring,

a story never fully told.

It sparks, it dies, it jumps the track,

a circuit blown, a loose connection.

There’s no neat way to win it back,

just this internal, wild deflection.