I see through poet’s eyes
life recorded in metaphor
ideas dancing with possibilities.
I hear through poet’s ears
the humming of memory
the clatter of change
the sibilance of serenity
I touch through poet’s hands
hard thoughts,
rough realities,
soft dreams.
I smell through a poet’s nose
freshly mown hay of a summer day
leaves burning in an autumn evening
I taste through a poet’s tongue
the sourness of betrayals
the sweetness of hope
The poet has an infinity of senses
that reach into history
and unravel mysteries.
Shawn L. Bird 