There are many writers-in-cyberspace;
words flow like a proverbial, perpetual
fountain but one poet- soul, a wise one,
who weaves his words with skill and feeling, said
that the shadows racing over sand were
thoughts that the land is having. I marvelled
at what seemed to me a revelation
for I live amidst mountains and am often
found watching shadows as they cross, soft-hued,
quiet and tender, covering and changing
the landscape in their wake, from dark to light,
from light to dark and back to light again.
Now I imagine the land’s emotions:
the wind is its anger, the sun is its
benevolence, the breeze a tease, the snow
its strong urge to hibernate and always,
always I shall see the rain as its tears.
From a penumbra in the poet’s mind,
something ghostly, insubstantial, half-glimpsed
and half-hidden, just an inkling of an idea
became pure poetry,transformed itself
and flew on a journey to me, through space,
reaching my mountainous place from the sea
inspiring me, from those thought-shadows in the sand.