As a Poet,
  I don’t have to prove what I mean

Or reveal the pigmentation
  of colors that gleam

Or the height of an Angel,
  compared to a Man

Or whether the Devil,
  cannot or then can

As a Poet,
  I don’t even have to explain

The temperature of a sunrise,
  or a sorrow unplained

Or the width of my paper,
  the length of my pen

The fact that I’m sitting here,
  tautologies end

And thus as a Poet,
  I’m free to espouse

The beauty around me,
  without saying how

The magic that marvels,
  never revealing its trick

The hat with the rabbit,
  the joy in the mix

All Poetry a lens,
  through which others can view

Life’s focus e’er changing
  —each moment anew

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)