0120 A Tribute To James P., Poet
M Michael Shepherd
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Every five years or so
since you were a boy,
a slender book of
maybe a dozen poems
gently human, like
a summer seashore
lapping at the heart,
leaving washed bright pebbles
like jewels
for each five years
a quiet poet, bright-eyed
with an inner smile
has walked around unnoticed
waiting for a poem to come to him
and yet
leaving the air around him clean
like a walk by the sea-shore
cleansed by the listening sight
of a world full of unwritten poems
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