Hovering Patience
Like the hummingbird’s wafting,
The moments before the fluttering wings
Holds steady on an ambrosian bloom,
So too awaits the suspended fingers of a poet,
Hovering patiently above the keyboard
Before alighting on keys of letters into words,
Words into thoughtful contemplation,
Contemplation into compassionate wisdom.
How generous our evolved gift
To connect mind,
Heart,
Fingers,
To an instrument of silent speak.
How fortunate to express
And be heard through the silence of a reader’s monitor.
Giver
And receiver
Enjoin in a harmony
Where the bosom’s melody of love
Can feel the counterpoint of the mind’s discerning mettle.
Such magical connection
Allows the fingers to dance the ballet
Of poetic grace and humility,
Propelling the emotional caress of empathy.
And so…
Perhaps it is time to allow the downbeat of the linguistic baton,
To commence this journey of senses sent aloft
Into technology’s assist,
Where like the hummingbird’s joy,
The poet too is about to realize
The nectar of hovering patience.
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The love, joy, uplifting, and scolding that flows from your
pen or typing whisks us off to a place where we've never been,
and are not likely to ever find again. Keep on keeping on, friend,
poet, and examiner of life.
Likewise, without this speech to dictation technology that I use too much, my comments to all of those poems I've read would be very short and inconclusive for some. Why I don't use simple "thumbs up" symbols to poems and stories, but rather write more at length about them… Because I can.
You seem to imply that AI will make our poetry reading and writing journey even better. Probably so. I have found that technology makes the tedious part of creativity go away and the hovering mindset waiting to be released, is done much easier and with wider access than ever before.
Ron