Poetics

Some poems come in thunderclouds,
like grumbling, grouchy men
that roar and thud and thrash about
like lions in their den.

Some poems come on quiet feet,
like children sneaking in
to beg forgiveness for their play,
because they raised a din.

Some poems come on fairy wings,
like butterflies in flight
dance up and down the pretty blooms
that make the garden bright.

Some poems come on wisps of air,
like babies' sleepy sighs
that puff out rosy lips and cheeks,
breaths of God in disguise.

© 2013