Where is my poem?
Where, oh where is it lingering?
For I know, without a doubt,
it resides between each heartbeat,
with every exhale and inhale
Perhaps, it is swaddled in my dreams,
bathed in my wishes,
lying dormant within the recesses of my brain,
or just beneath tears of sorrow, or joyous laughter
The rooster crows with exuberance
Cocky as he sits on the post
All the while, a cardinal, regal in scarlet,
flutters from leaf to limb
Clouds tease me with their shapeshifting,
as the engorged creek rushes o'er my toes
The rocks fingered by rushing water
creates a harmonious calm
Why cannot the words bubble forth, or blossom
as plants which give birth to fragrant meadows
alive with the buzz of bees and velveteen rabbits
who raise their ears and wiggle their nose, like a periscope in nature
All this, as far as my eyes can see!
Across the pasture, a red barn
Truly, an iconic Mona Lisa of photography
Against such a mesmerizing backdrop,
is a pregnant, golden mare with a vociferous neigh
For a storm brews in the distance-
dark and foreboding
An intense flash slices the sky,
followed by a thunderous roll
Reminding me of mythical gods, angry warriors
Swift is the wind, the damp smell of wet dirt
The redolence of Mother Earth's fragrance
stirred by the gruff arrival of rain's pour-
until the sun's brilliant power demanded retreat
Such a pompous and imposing return
creates a bedazzled jeweled arch
I gaze intensely,
marveling with awestruck wonder
Shadows grow long stretching till
evening's closing show,
Dusk sashays banners of sunset ribbons
Vibrant hues of pink, gold, and red
Twilight begins to hang a swath
of shimmering, black satin curtains,
painted with lumens of zodiac stars
Before me, an aerial of incandescent fireflies
compete with a whirl of elegance
The cicadas chirp in syncopation
with the bullfrogs' throaty call
A rapturous orchestra of Nightingales
Crescendo, a cacophony of nightfall's music
Where is my poem? Need I ask?
