Two Windows
Who can say what way a poet's mind works Or if, indeed, there is a common trait That links the minds and hands of diff'rent folks Aside from wishes that we try to date In carefully arranging pictures, words, In separating chance or luck from fate? With all our tongues and codes and styles of talk, Different backgrounds, unique sense of place, Perspectives on a great spectrum of dark And light, all textures, hues, and shades, What ties us all yet lets us make a mark That sets voices apart upon the page? How can two sets of eyes see the same things And yet within find always new meanings?