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become as we

Sitting alone she whispered:

“I wish I had Poetry”

A passing butterfly
           Offered her wings
A setting sun
          Its “orange-ness”
The passing breeze
          Its scented story
The croaking frogs
         Their harmony
10,000 insects
         A riffled hum
A distant Loon
         Its eerie call
A silent Owl
        Blinked
               Its eyes saying

“we are poetry”
             “become as we”

She no longer sits alone

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Hilda Greenhough

Date: 3/19/2024 5:08:00 PM

Such insight. A good poem of poems.

Jeanette Swan

Date: 3/19/2024 3:26:00 AM

Faved. Love this: the livingness of poetry, or the poetry of livingness. J:)

Arthur Vaso

Date: 3/19/2024 3:00:00 AM

Very beautiful indeed!

Lin Lane

Date: 3/18/2024 6:20:00 PM

A poet has the ability to become all the creatures and the elements of nature you personified in your lines, John. There is a fairytale quality that’s magically enchanting.