The Absence of Poetry

The absence of poetry in oneself
denotes a time of incubation.
The mystical has rested for a while
laying its head down
in the green, turf
or mud, or sand
whichever prompts the weary muse
to sleep to dream;
words suspended
in a place where inspiration cannot go.
And yet the moist incubation
of seeded words
pushes upwards to the light,
grows green shoots and later
rainbow heads
that speak of riches in the dark
of dreams that never end
of life that holds them up
like mirrors to the sun.