Unnamed Poem

I knocked on my heart

And asked for a poem

Any poem.

I gazed at the world

Mist, mountain, sea.

The poems laughed

and ran away from me.

At last I turned to God

for His leftovers.

They were too great

for my pen.

I stopped asking.

Then I heard the morning dove

Blowing hollow in the still mist,

And the late-summer leaves

Rustling for escape.

Rain pattered on my heart.

And a poem bloomed there.

poem copyrighted by the author