I wrote this a few years ago... I found it while going through some old papers... decided to share it.
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I sit underneath the poet tree
looking for some kind of inspiration like in that
school house rock cartoon where an apple
falls and hits that guy in the head.

Beneath the poet tree
I breathe in the wind so carefree into
my lungs that the earth around me
breathes for me as I breath.

Beneath the poet tree
I sit alone, alone I sit
sitting, waiting, check, breathing, yes.
Waiting as always alone.

Beneath the poet tree
I contemplate, ruminate, illuminate
thinking about my fate and for
inspiration, I wait and wait and wait

Beneath the poet tree
I wonder why I can be alone
In a crowded room. What is this over my head
a cloud of doom? Why run away.
I am a nice guy.
But nice guys finish last.

Beneath the poet tree I sit
clasp it as my friend rooted deep
it ain't going no-where.
Yep, me, the tree, the wind and air
waiting for inspiration.