The poet is proud, and humbled by readers

Without being feted at galas

Without a wineglass in hand 

The poet gets drunk on fifty per cent spirit

Without a penny to her name

She is rich in magic and music

Without claiming the moral high ground

The poet is sure to raise us up

Without selling a book

The poet is widely read

Without winning a prize 

The poet is our champion

She is fearless without a safety net

Without being famous 

The poet is one of us

From outside high railings

Informing a locked-in elite

Like the storm clouds all around.

Will any good come of it?

That’s what time is for.