Naomi Shihab Nye wrote in her poem, Valentine for Ernest Mann, that poetry hides...and what we have to do is live in a manner that enables us to find it...to see it.. This started me thinking about the poetry in everyday life...and here is the result. 

 

Today, I decide to search for Poetry Embarking on a safari, I explore Dusty tables, hand knit bags and crowded closets for  Elusive poetic bits

 

Poetry hides in the light clicking of the keyboard, late homework pressing the keys to a flurry  of activity

 

Found in the plaintive sigh of little fingers struggling with the teeth of a woolen zipper

 

In the icy shards of a  broken lightbulb on the floor Poetry leaps upwards and nicks my fingers

 

Supper dishes in the sink Clamor for soap and water And the bubbles burst, each expelling a hiccup

 

of poetry found

Searching finished, I examine

my findings, like the archeigologist who dares hardly breathe when uncovering aged pottery

 

I see poetry hiding      everywhere now, peeking out from behind the numbers in the clock the footprints      in the carpet

Poetry softens the harsh lines

of the kitchen table sharpens the blurred edges of  a vase of flowers

When loneliness creeps up

I will open my eyes and find the poetry   hiding everywhere around me

 

and I will smile as I think     of poetry found