The Nature of Writing

Rivers run Where poets sing For wishful words with an endless ring Rippling rhythms a waters motion For dipping pens in black potion To the early morning glories that climb With open minds where poets may rhyme To the mountaintops To the line of the sky Written notions shall apply And fields of gold that blow and wag And writers dream that they may brag So flow and stream like the riverbed And clear the words from out of head Go and carry you thoughts like seeds Where they be spread as far weeds And rest as weary winds that fall For silence breathes Where poets squall