Prose to Poetry

Here is the first page of WHERE THE HEART LEADS in iambic pentameter:

In autumn, when the leave were turning brown,
Moira drove her aging car to town
And parked it in a lot across the street
From a museum where she'd finally meet
With her employers, a civic theater guild
Who'd hired Moira, sight unseen, to build
Their fledgling act into a point of pride
For Bosque Bend and all the countryside.