“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg
Some poetry is written.
Some seen in the sky, a flower, a smile.
Some not able to be held by words, in a soul alone.
Drawing us both out and in.
Wide and deep.
A deep breath, a heavy sigh, a sense of awe.
Words, thoughts, actions, a way of being.
Past, present and future, woven into story, prose, narrative.
In the expanse, in corners, in crevices, hiding in plain sight.
Come play awhile in the beauty, wonder and mystery.
“Every single soul is a poem.” – Michael Franti