As we sat in our front room this evening, with a cozy fire, my wife reading a novel and the cat lying on the footrest of her recliner, she said,
“Kitty falls asleep
looking like
he’s doing some sort
of somersault dive.”
My wife didn’t say it as a poem, but it didn’t look right zooming across the page like prose that didn’t know when to stop.
MonkeyMoonMachine 
Sometimes the lines just know where to
break…