I as evening moon began to rise
sat upon pillowed settee.
Face turned towards stream of words.
Eyes attuned to text lined with visions.

I as moment progressed journeyed into a poem  
where mind focused on pulsations of doggerel,
as ears attuned to my silent voice.

Visions surfaced each word carrying me further
into a menagerie of words.
Where trees spoke and candles became stars.

Each stanza giving chance
to travel in its terrain of metric splendor
where birds played harp and flowers swung from trees.

And when done, I drifted into a sea of stars
dreaming of the poets land.