The sun so long above the mountain
Leaving behind its vanishing glory is now stooping low, about to set
My fluttering footsteps,
Not far away,
Will faithfully follow them all.
Fading Flowers
Poetry comes from all people and all places, or so I have been told. To me, poets are those living, seeing, and thinking on a level slightly above the rest of the rational thinkers. I am at a loss to name a poet that did not belong to that lyrical class of writers or singers. It’s true that there are poems on about every subject written by enthusiasts –cyclists, sport fishers, even particle physicists — and though sometimes clever they are usually pretty bad or cutesy, as an art teacher once described it. There are brilliant writers on a variety of subjects and their brains seemed to be honed to their subject matter. I read my friend’s dissertation…
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