Secrets Poem by Gavin Robinson

Cracked paths usually
lead me to secrets.

Brick walls of the
mossy cistern

Harmonious finches
at work overhead

And the delicate ripples
that cascade from
within the golden clubs..

Never before have I
been quite so grounded--

The way I am when
the pine straw falls a
few feet aside me.

And the constant flush
of rainwater collects in the
cavern behind.

I've no need to ask the
usual questions...

Why? Who? When?

For it's here, now.
And it's mine...

This very moment.