Intellect
has nothing to do with it.
I
point out a tree in my poem; you
look
and see it differently. I make
a
herd of horses morph into leaves.
Mowing
the lawn on a lazy summer
day
turns into a metaphor...Oh, for
what?
(Only I can say. And rarely
does
it make any sense to me.) Are
loons
really crazy? Only if you believe
a
sassafras tree gave me the words
I
have interjected into this poem of
mine
today. Actually, it was a sparrow
on
crutches which whispered these
words
of wisdom into my ear. I am
not
an intellectual at all, my dear—a
tad
bit loony, though, on most days,
I’d
say. Had I a magic wand to turn
seeing
into believing, however, now
that
would be something indeed.
Chris
Hanch 2-9-18
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