Nature, Soul, and Poetry: Reflecting on Self

I enjoy poetry, read it, think about it, allow it into my life. I know many do not, but that’s because they never had me for an English teacher, especially when learning about the literary period of Romanticism.
Both British and American Romantic poets’ dovetail with my philosophy in many ways, especially the spiritual nature of life, the link of our inner emotional composition and how that relates to our cognition. We cannot divorce our inner creative being from the external world, from society and all the corollaries of that — politics and government, religion, culture, economy. We come into this world as spiritual beings and we seek until we reconnect with that core Self. Nature helps us do that, reflects to us our inner emotional state because the life energies of Spirit move through everything.
Therefore, many times when I write poetry, I open myself to elements of Nature, observe, reflect, and connect with them. Then, I seek to share the truth of what I have gleaned. If you ever wish to see how an inspired, master poet does this, read William Wordsworth or Wm. Blake or Keats or Shelley or Coleridge or Whitman for poetry. In fact, for years I had Coleridge’s definition of poetry on a poster hanging in my classroom: “Poetry is the best words in the best order.”
Indeed, the economy of words that splotch color and form in precise sensory images on a page to induce distinct emotional states requires craft. Lyric poetry is like an emotional snapshot. Vacation photographs remind me of poems in the sense that one picture can evoke a whole day’s worth of memories. One short poem can perform a similar feat, sometimes life-changing.
Because it is National Poetry Month, I thought I could at least write and share one poem before looking at others’ works — maybe before the end of the month. Tonight, I will share the poem I actually penned two days ago right after the morning walk with my puppies. A very simple observation as we crossed a nearby grassy ball field led to this. (By the way, I have no title for it.)
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The sun blesses crystal droplets perching on the tippy-top blades of grass.
They lose their balance and leap onto the mesh of my sneakers for safety,
Quickly soaking through to my socks.
The abandoned blades mark darkened trails,
The illuminating dew drops now hugging my shoes.
Others have passed by
Earlier; their tracks reveal
A journey, embark, disembark,
Meandering, Purposeful
But all walking here with me,
Their energies beside me, around me,
Left to feel, to trace, to sense, to connect.
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Blessings!