A poet is a man
With his feet on the ground,
His eyes ever searching
For the beauty around.
His hands always busy,
He works with the crowd,
But if you look closely,
His head's in a cloud.
He hears you-but listens
To things you don't hear,
Those sounds he transposes
For some sensitive ear.
A poet is a man
Who is never alone,
The earth, sky and beauty
Are truly his own.
Published
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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