Words come to me in the slow places,
In quiet moments;
I wonder of the angels and muses that place them so carefully.
If my life seems out of focus,
A whirlwind of variety and interest,
I don't despair of it;
It is my joy.
The ground for all these words is deep and fertile,
Nurtured by experience and curiosity,
Watered by a lifetime of reading,
Turned and planted in the quiet hours of solitude.
There is an ocean in each of us,
Filled with fish only we will ever catch,
Darting and whirling and sparkling,
Glinting for our eyes only,
Only a few ever netted and shared.
Like all poets,
I love swimming.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12-31-2011
