Where Poetry is Born

When human thought transforms to verse,

With its value never in doubt.

How potent are the elements

That have it come about.

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It sparkles on a dewy leaf.

It shimmers where wet stones lie.

It plays around when a shadow moves.

It flickers from a star-filled sky.

It glows gently from subtle moonbeams.

It flashes bright on a rippling pond.

It plays through a stand of waving grass.

It glares from a shining frond.

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It is scattered through a tangle of boughs.

It blossoms in the dark of a cave.

It is mirrored in the colours of flowers.

It twinkles on the crest of a wave.

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It blazes out from sea-washed rocks.

It glints from a frost-coated hedge.

It shows in the movement of a flickering flame.

It shines at a grey cloud’s edge.

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See it plainly everywhere;

In day, night, dusk and dawn.

It’s found in all those countless places

Where poetry is born.