List poem:

I am a secret

longing to be whispered,

I am the clock face

you must check time and again--

my hands steady and deliberate,

pushing forward.

I am the blue which precedes

blackest night, indigo and iris,

the blue of forget-me-nots which follows dawn.  

I am bright and dark,

a welcome and a warning.

I am a slow and studious

walk through the woods,

a joyous leap from the driftwood log.

I am driftwood, changed by water and sun

and dead to the place I came from.

I am the most inner pink crook in the conch shell

and I am the broad smile of sky

over open pasture.

I am the honest cold pain

of ice cubes between the teeth,

I am the spreading warmth of sun on shoulders.