What’s your poetry?

What comes up in the eye of a storm can be very informing

What’s your poetry?

It won’t rhyme all the time, But sometimes life doesn’t. Doesn’t make anything any less Beautiful, does it?

I notice that the wind still blows.

The trees gently sway, And the Sun starts to shine.

Nature takes its time — There’s no rushing it. And there’s no crushing its soul. Nor yours or mine, for that matter, If we only follow our better,

Nature -

And just allow it. In. And out.

“I have no time.”

In the middle of this crisis I’m trying, To keep my head down. Do my work things and take care of my babies. And myself a little bit.

But what finds time? Without me finding it? What finds me? My poetry.

There’s a truth in that what comes up, Inside or what comes from outside, And stands out to our eyes, When we look out of the eye of a —

I pray — Once in a lifetime hurricane.

What’s your poetry? It won’t rhyme all the time, But if you listen, I promise,

You’ll feel it.