Poetry In Hiding

Hidden on a crisp white paper Tracing itself in the lines of a sketch Swirling through an artist’s paint Rustling through the wind-stirred leaves Weaving through an angel’s hair Dancing in rainbow hues across the sky. It chatters cheerily with the pebbles of a creek bed, Or whispers gently across a sea of grass. Other times, it roars violently in volcanic wrath And hisses and pops like wet logs on a fire It winks at me out of a loved one’s eyes And tickles my ear in the lark’s song. It swirls through my fingers with water of a bubbling stream Tantalizingly, it teases my nose, like fresh-baked apple pie. I find it in my father’s arms, when I can hear the steady beat of his heart, Or discover it in the tangle of my siblings as we collapse in fits of wild laughter It hid in my mother’s loving voice, while she sang me to sleep And I see it in the curl of a baby’s tiny hands as she slumbers in my arms. At night, it cocoons me when I snuggle under the covers Concealed deep in the conclaves of my soul Sequestered in the chambers of my heart, Nestled snugly in my memories, Coiled reassuringly in my mind That is where my poetry hides.