The other day, a mysterious package was left on my desk. (See photo.) It contained three pages ripped out of poetry books. The instructions indicated that I was to read, keep or pass along the package of poems, honoring April as National Poetry Month.

I decided to enjoy them at my favorite coffee shop the next morning, on my birthday. I listened to some quiet music and read them. I know exactly where to pass them on, but first, wrote my own poem.

For Wallace and Amy

I’ve read the poems
Left in the mysterious package for me.
Thoughts of movement
And leaves upon a tree.
Random words of poets
Whose meanings I can’t quite grasp.
And yet…
With quiet music background
I read the flow of words and wonder…
How is it I do not understand
And yet joy comes to my soul? Print This