Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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TO MAKE A POEM

He mutters it seems, as a leaf quivers
the silent voice of breeze, heavenly tide
carries imperceptible words, freed
from the sheath, to make a poem
omen of eternity, fashioned in the flow
apparent unstable oscillation
that annihilates the poet’s personality
to fuse it mysteriously, in mist of genesis.




Jan G. Otterstrom F. 11/18/2012 Somewhere over the Atlantic.