Poetry is like being on a boat

Fingers trailing in the water

Birds flashing in the sky

Sun hazy through the clouds

The smell of salt and dirt and weedy growing things,

Flowing water.

Poetry is like running out in a rainstorm

Rounds of water and hail

Stinging pellets on the skin

Thunder clap and a flash of lightning,

Setting the soul free.

Poetry is a force that moves and shakes and comforts.

Tell me, dear writer and reader, 

tell me, what is poetry like for you?