For the love of Poetry - Oct. 20, 2020

here we are like-minded travelers

that throw ropes and pull

each other up the mountain

slap each other on the back

praise a phrase hail a homerun

at our peak we were priests

of a first-hand religion preachers

that formed a conga line of

human snapshots and divine insights

lovers of language incestuous with words

this love like a tree

can’t make its own sun

retrieve its own water

climb its own branches

does a canvas need the writer

as much as a writer needs the canvas?