Poetry is a wind storm when you least expect it. Poetry is lovers caught in a hurl of passion that cannot be understood because it was never meant to be understood. Poetry is your soul mate who loves you even with toothpaste on your chin. Poetry is parenthood and sleepless nights and too many dishes but wonderful meals. Poetry is kittens that run from puppies that chase butterflies.
Poetry is fruit baskets in the winter.
Poetry is the brook where you bathe your naked feet and your toes play with tadpoles who are not afraid of you. Poetry is the songs that make you dance even when you are alone. Poetry is who we are in all that we do and think and feel. Poetry is living, loving, sharing, crying, laughing, playing, struggling, and sometimes, even hating. Poetry is lavender sprayed on silk robes given as gifts to wear while sipping white wine and sitting alone, watching the flicker of orange dance on the ceiling while the hot wax from the dripping candles carves its mysteries for your imagination.