While blunt words of a poet are his wings
that must soar up into the clouds and sky,
his heart often remains modestly shy
when he rummages in his head for things
expressing formidable eloquence
to further reveal the depths of his heart.
Such is the boredom of his opaque art.
A waterfall, rose, leaf become sequence
in the dramatic scene of a mirror
that reflects bright wavering light
on crepuscular shadows where small birds
twitter about random events, error,
buoyant perspectives of aerial height
which poets translate into refulgent worlds.