Ubiquity Poem by Hugh Cobb

I have a question: Where is this poem hiding?
In a dust mote dancing in a beam of light?
In silver notes of a young girl's laughter?
Or in veins of a leaf made translucent by sunset?
Maybe the poem is hiding behind your smile,
or deep within your eyes, or simply waiting to
leap from th'tangled disarray of your hair.

Is it conceal'd in tatter'd tapestry of the cat's chair?
It must be here someplace, hiding places are so few.
It might be obscured in deep charcoal pile
or carpet, perhaps, or trapp'd within a silken net
of spider web discreetly spun beneath a rafter.
How to discern its camouflage is my plight.
Ah, I see! This poem is everywhere abiding.

(Copyright 9/20/2002)