“What thoughts journey ‘neath that panama hat?”
Is this what people wonder as they pass
A figure, hunched in prayer-like thought,
Pulling in his net to see what he’s caught.
What power must he wield o’er his domain
Under his deep brow, charging sun and rain;
Oh to look out though the mind’s endless eye
Claiming the golden horizons and dawning skies;
Are there no chains to hold down the wind?
Then what can hold back the words we find within?
What stirs deep inside this stone form?
Is this his pleasure, to be still and alone?
Who would guess it? Who would know it?
´Neath that hat is just a sleeping poet.
April 13, 2003