When he was young he wanted to become
a professional rainbow chaser; someone
who could run beyond the drenched hills
to where the sky shouldered its sack
of rain. It was his dream to find
some hidden place where leprechauns
slept by a pot of gold. But grown-up laughter
and the fear of getting lost led him
to the aviation of birds. His plucked wings
flapped in the mow as his landings
trampled hay and he soon collapsed
his mother's only umbrella. Bed without supper
caused him to dream of new endeavors; choices
one makes to learn. He decided then
to become a professional runaway -
someday. Throughout adolescence
the urge to be, to create, followed him:
rainmaker, dew-jeweler, leaf-tinter.
He grew up waiting to become someone.
Then one day he strung some words
into a line and everything he ever wanted
rose to meet him. Now, after years
of pain, frustration and failure,
people are calling this professional
rainbow-chasing, swallow-diving runner
who goes everywere poet. And he believes them.