by Kevin Taylor
Two poets danced in a blossomy wood One with petals and the other with God Where are, one asked, our dreams of yore?
Two poets turned in a stormy wood One felt wind and the other, God Whence, one asked, do these wild winds roar? Two poets leaned in a wintry wood One through snow and the other with God What more, one asked, must we endure? Two poets came upon a midnight wood One turned back and the other toward God Both paths, God said, lead to my door.