How I write when I don’t write

When I crane my neck and look for that robin that I’ve seen a thousand times
or
for that barbet that I am yet to see this spring

When I take in a bouquet of putrefying vegetables
and
sift the scent of compost yet to come

When I am pondering the monthly budget
and
catch a glimpse of an early moonrise

When I am bored in the fifth interview of the day
and
smile at a sunbird drinking from a gamhar flower

When I tie a string from one creeper to another
and
from that creeper to a tree and from that tree to another creeper

When I am writing this poem
and
I am not writing it because my daughter needs water

I am writing when I am not.
I am writing only when I am not.