Poetry In Motion
On midnight's blackboard
words emerge
fade...
Southerly winds
shift
new words
into place.
The rains
plunge
wash
these words
earthward,
staining
your notepad.
Transformed,
transmuted
by your magic,
a morning rainbow
returns them skyward.
By nightfall
a star forms.
Oh Holy Night,
the Virgins sing.
Pris Campbell
(c)2002