by David Young [2013]

Each poem is a tiny door,

or better still,
a window.

Light as a snowflake,
slippery as a whale,
poised as a candle,
silent as an orchid.

We’ve walked a long way together.
Somewhere ahead of us
a horse whinnies,
a crow calls,
a beetle’s becoming a firefly.

The horse and the crow are a poem.

The firefly lights our way.

From Plume #22, April 2013. See the poet’s 1986 poem by the same name. See also the author’s website.