Poetic License 5-9-2014

“Poetry is aimless, not purposeful. The poem is dancing with itself.”— Billy Collins




At that time

I saw further

into the roseate glow

at the edges of late hour clouds,

I was the watcher,

alert to the changing position

of fireflies, the changing heart.

I tasted stone mint—

heard minstrels sing and recite,

could dance a fine fan-dan-go.

Before time fell backward

fate emptied my arms.

I was free to hope, imagine, laugh.

In that brief time

I could see further.


Mary Louise Cox,

Poet Laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck