Poem

A lily floats in the pond, stirred
by a rippled dance, a muse awakened
from the root secreted, the soul hidden.
It's where the realm of inspiration began
flowing upward and out of the water.
A sure bloom.  A bright complete effort
there for the eye of the beholder.
It has its legacy, its fragrance
petal by petal, word by word
and a calming presence of warmth
of sun like shining only the poem can give.