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.
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