"Where Do a Poet's Words Come From"

       A former student of mine who is a teacher,  a friend, a poet, approaches his own retirement from teaching.

       In Michael's honor, and with thanks, I place this poem of his in my blog.  I think it says beautifully...indeed, poetically...just what it is a poet does.




               WHERE DO A POET'S WORDS COME FROM



               the wind, but not borne on the wind, something

               inside the wind, some feeling which suggests

               possibilities, a joy and a sadness intertwined



               the ocean, but not riding the waves, something

               intrinsic, a force which summons song, which

               compels utterance of those twins, hope and despair



               the rain, but only when one stands or walks in it,

               its steady commitment to grief, not the words of

               grief, but the feel, the taste, the forgiveness, the prayer



               the mountains, not their grandeur, rather their

               endurance, their ineffable patience, their connection

               of earth and sky, their challenge to rise above, to dare





               Michael L. Newell