Poems Are Like…

Poems are like small projects
Of the mind and heart
When working together
—In conflict or in peace—
When wedding each other
For the purpose of creation only.

Discreetly they unfold
In narrow spaces,
Like modest water streams
Running rich fluids
In limited beds.

Poems are like delicate nests
Of infinite possibilities,
Seeds for trees to grow,
Glimpses of far reaching visions,
Drops of cosmogonic storms,
Murmurs of secrets untold,
Children of bashful tears.

For, how can the poet ever know
The species that will be?
The fully grown tree’s strength?
The destination of the river?
The mysteries of beginnings and end?

In the vast pastures of human labor
Poems rise everywhere
Like comforting counters
For man’s heavy treasures
To rest
For just a spell.

Not to be invested.

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