These rolling clouds, they move us
like brush across the desert sands,

we, poets; we are blessed,
we writers, artists,
dancers, photographers;
we musicians, magicians

songbirds, capturing light,
spinning words into gold,
worries into ashes,

and with a wisp of a wrist,
the blink of an eye,

the world is transformed.

~day 9 for a poem a day in April challenge for NaPoMo (National Poetry Month)