I guess the euphoria of the new year had to wear off some time...
A poet looks at a tree
And sees something else entirely.
A witch, his childhood or infinity.
I see a tree.
A composer listens to a voice
And is moved to rejoice
In a song, an opera, an anthem for pro-choice.
I hear a voice.
A teacher takes a child
And shapes something waiting and wild
Into poet, composer, painter, scientist, inventor - on these, the muses have smiled.
I’m still a child