Politicians, Preachers and Prophets
“And for what, except for you,
do I feel love”
Wallace Stevens
Concealed in full view
there are sanctuaries where you
can go when the shrill noise
of politicians, preachers and prophets
gets too loud - the quiet
of a morning wearing a glossy melt
of frost honeyed in the glow of first light -
forest trails winding
under the whispers of tall trees -
a shoreline slowly emerging
from the stillness of a thick fog
as if it were letting go of a dream
and at the end of the street,
a place in the mind where a poem
frees itself from gravity
and with frail wings
lifts itself towards love.
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