What Is a Poet

Who is this person who can coax the ordinary into magical so easily? A grey, depressing winter's sky becomes "a coverlet of lilac gossamer." Are poets born with exotic words already whispered in their ears? Are these words their native language? Or, do they speak them to lift us when our spirits stumble? Perhaps poets are visitors from a distant planet, finding our's too harsh to hear the heartbeat of a beautiful phrase. Or, could they be Nature's attempt to save us? Their minds must be linked to the stars, hearts following the songs of sirens. Listening closely, they hear voices unheard by us: Mother Earth's lullabies to her children. Altho gentle, they somehow find the courage to open their hearts, share their dreams. They know some may scoff, not recognizing the beauty hiding in the everyday mundane. I believe poets are treasure hunters seeking those hidden places where others never thought of looking, writing words we never imagined. Perhaps, deep within our hearts, a poem is waiting.