poetry to me

i dont think poems are my forte...poetry is what i have in my head-what i cant put down on paper-cant put down the wind,the clear blue skies,the vibrant hues of sunset,that afterglow at twilight,the autumnal scenes,the cascades of waterfalls,the soft touch of flowers,the soaring birds lifted up on the winds, the sudden calm when the wind dies down,the swirling waves at my feet,the lock of hair blowing into my eyes,the feeling that i could flywhen the wind lifts up my clothes,the cool raindrops on my face,the scent of water mingled with parched earth,the thrill of splashing around in the ice-cold water of a mountain stream,having fog blow and swirl around you,thunderclouds gathered in the sky,the imminent rain and the euphoric feeling it brings along,the whispering streams confusing you to their whereabouts in the woods,flowers carpeting the hillsides,the clatter of raindrops on tin roofs,the silent ethereal descent of snowflakes to the earth,a dew laden-bejewelled spider web,a blast of cold air ona sleepy warm face,snuggling into the warmth of the bed-the blanket of snow outside,the frost on the windowpanes,chimneys billowing smoke.throwing up your arms out of sheer joy as you race downhill,watching the lazy clouds change shapes and travel across the sky,lying on the grass and squinting up at the butterflies,viewing the world below from hilltops,travelling at night in open fields-wind whipping up your hair-the moon racing along,yhe stars watching on.fireflies dancing and twinkling on a summer night-cool and serene.aftereffects of a dust storm and a brief shower-that aromatic disarray-the beauty of it.the wonder of watching a falling star,a drive on a meandering road witha slight drizzleand the hills and river to behold-valleys spread far and wide,shells flowing in with the tide,the fantasy of walking into yhe ocean..the waves until you meet that mysterious,unattainable horizon.thats what poetry is.if i could just capture all that.