Favorite Poetry

I wonder sometimes, what might be
My favorite kind of poetry
I scan the endless vaulted sky
With an awe-struck, reverent eye
And I’m thinking this must be
My favorite kind of poetry

But then the blueness of the hills
Etched where dawning daylight spills
Nearly takes my breath away
And I don’t know what to say
As the amber morning light
Captures every thought just right

I love the flow of written word
But I know that I have heard
A poem written in love’s eyes
And suddenly I realize
Surely, surely this must be
My favorite kind of poetry

Or is it in the muted tune
Of midnight and the pale, white moon?
The sparkle of the brook, the rain?
The thought of you, the ache within?
Or how about the evening breeze
Whispering in the willow trees

The lilac, heavy with a shower
The quiet of a pre-dawn hour
The music of a season’s edge
The view from twilight’s breathless ridge
Ah, I know there can never be
A favorite kind poetry

Janet~