Poet and Nature

Rippling waves and sounds
And the ocean that knows no bounds,
Are moving from one place to another,
Crossing all  the darkness and smother.

They dance to the music of waves and arcs,
Creating sounds as though they are larks
Singing soulfully in the even-tides
As the sunlight beyond the skyline hides.

A magnificent scene prevails;
the twilight gently into dusk falls.

The heart of a poet then keeps in wait
Until the ship a line of drift and draft of water beget.

Such is the soul of a poet, engaged with the beauty of such things, that it gives birth to beauty and elegance that is plenty.

A poet, thus, before our eyebrows bring
What’s called unending joy; and plays those modern whispers as he pulls the musical string.

Copyright : Welkin Siskin