Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
The dog was a beagle named Snoopie, and she was not actually present, the night (on the Appalachian Trail) being a conflation of more than one actual night. That is why art is better than life!
A Metaphor Glimpsed
The dog shifted in its sleep and sighed
As the fire shifted and popped in its downward slide
To entropy and ash. The man awoke
Just long enough to see, through sparks and smoke,
Successive layers of leaves and burning stars.
He thought of lightning bugs in Mason jars,
Captured (to be set free again, not to keep)
In years long past, and then went back to sleep,
Wondering if sparks were starlight that the wood
Had caught and now set free again for good.
The leaves were whispering—were they saying, “Yes”?
The smoke knew, but, reluctant to confess,
Maintained its silence and left the man to guess.
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest book from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.
Donald T. Williams, PhD