I don't have paint or brush,
Or mallet to shape a rock;
I don't weld or chisel,
Or mold clay into crocks.
I don't wear an apron
To create art-food forms.
I can't meander on a stage
To emote the audience.
I can't focus a camera lens,
I don't have what it demands.
I don't use any tools
To do what artists can;
Except for
Words, just words,
These flow without end
To color ice and snow,
To carve mountain tops
Down to pebbles in a stream,
Shading dales, glens, woods and mead.
Equipped, I am, with all I need
To create an art that you can feel
As well as any gallery piece,
To arouse emotions in the reader,
To bring to life as a carver
Wields his knives like an author.