About Poetry

I may die
at any moment.
Until that time comes,
I will take my history books into the field
to read with crunchy leaves and wild oats
for company.
I will arch and slink with my cats
through winter mustard.
If I sprout poems
like weeds
or barnacles
on my rocks,
or rainbows in my belly,
they are are as much a wonder to me
as they are to you.