I like this a lot, grassy, and only wanted to tell you
that, as a reader, I really* wanted a breath break & a
pace slow down for visual proccessing in the
reading...and after multiple reads it seems to me to
want to be slowed down somehow {punct or
spacing?}here:

only, the poet has a gift
with words - those little snips of text

thnaks for the good read
later
calaya
*****

Something about Poets

I do not think that a poet is any different
from any other mortal (and I try not
think what an immortal poet would write)
no different to any other person, feeling
love, loss, disappointment, pain, ecstasy,
in the mundane way these feelings flow
into all our lives. So a poet lives,
breathes, experiences as we all do, no need
for a cape or swept back hair or that faraway
colour in the gaze, as wise and silly as
the rest of us - only, the poet has a gift
with words - those little snips of text
and sound, trailing their long tails
of nuance, significance, history behind
them, gather at the poet's feet
like hopeful puppies. Words love the poet.
Take me home they cry. Love me
and I will never run away. And in return
the poet bends, scoops them up, musses
their fur, plays boop-de-doo with them.
They gambol around the poet's toes
or hide in corners, begging to be found.
Ah, says the poet, with affection, you devils,
you'll be the death of me.

.....................(grasshopper)





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