The poet, bent over the paper, ink-brush in hand, <br />carefully defining poetry for his pupils <br />did not see the first stork of the Spring <br />in the limitless blue sky, <br />a new poem in its beak<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-is-a-poem-from-the-chinese/
