The Art Of Improv

It may seem we say just what we like
With no thought or preparation;
No structure, shape or foresight,
Just freedom in all its dazzling gift
Flowing in steady cascades with no restriction
Or constraint or discernment to stop
From saying, or doing that first idea
Because there’s no such thing as wrong.

Breathless we’d be.
Dead or tired, at least.
It is more considered than that.
We are attentive, our listening increased.
Generous with time in safe format.
Serving at a shared feast.
‘I’ becomes ‘we’.

Written on 12th January 2020.