Something Old, Something New

Somewhere on this little ball

Of dirt and hurt and wondering

A poet had a thought and scrawled

The letters to his pondering

…and while life's highway twists and turns

The words remain now century-worn

To remind us what we learn

Are new old poems being born

Beneath the sun is nothing new

Of flood or drought, of joy or pain

A song, a poem, a dance or two

And we return to earth again

…but somewhere on this little ball

Of dirt and hurt and wondering

We ought to take the time to scrawl

The poems of our pondering…

© Janet Martin

Over and over I have whispered thank-you to the poets of old.