the clouds sing in hushed tones
reverence for refracting
rainbow drops of light
when all is poetry

the river whispers praise
rounds the bend and pools
in silent blue-green depth
when all is poetry

the tree creaks quietly
jealous of the rushing wind's
uprooted flowing freedom
when all is poetry

the snowfall mutely patters
piling high as if to save itself
for approaching warmer days
when all is poetry

even death's fearful staring gaze
with its toothy jagged grin
somehow loses power
when all is poetry

and the miles of shattered dreams
are ground to glimmering dust
and sprinkled on broken hearts
when all is poetry

the world's many melodies
both dissonant and pure
make us what we are
when all is poetry