Where poetry hides…
beautiful Yellowstone Mammoth Hot Springs
The little table with the striped umbrella on my back porch
My grandparents’ old apartment
under Leah’s bed where bouncy balls and half dressed Barbies hide
in the basement in a small closet
in the black, polished mailbox
in my orange and black Halloween basket
on the top shelf of my pantry where the chocolate hides from little fingers
my closet full of clothes in my bedroom
in the dollar section of the Target, in the bins with the silly hats
at the delicious Starbucks in Target
A poem is born.
