So you–
you–
want to write a poem?
Start by walking out your front door
and saying hello to every face you meet:
bird in the sky,
leaf on the lawn,
a summer wind falling gently over you
and you still–
still–
want to write a poem?
After an over-worked day at the office
gray cubicles and clear ice cubes clinking
on paper cups I just want to make sure
I’ve heard you right:
you,
who wakes up every morning
just to paint the sunrise;
you,
who tallies ticket orders
and buys Christmas presents,
builds log cabins
and feeds the homeless;
you
who has ever wondered
what your place is on this Earth–
you
want to write a poem?
The Earth hears your beckoning,
is waiting for you
to open up
open the door to your soul
and realize that man-made
will always have its limits…
the mountain peak will always
surpass Mountain Dew
and wild thoughts fall flat
onto to the blue horizon,
spread out like a quilt
nature made just for you.
Hear it whisper,
my dear,
that beating in your heart.
You mustn’t
simply
write a poem.
You are the poem.
December 9, 2015
