Listen, there’s no reason at all. Ask anyone.
No one reads poetry. Who can understand it?

And rich. Ha! Likely won’t earn you a dime.
You’re writing for an audience of one: You.

Which turns out is exactly what’s meant to be.
The writing. Not the publishing or wished-for

admiration. The soul work of writing enlarges you,
lasers in the ordinary to see it as extra- ,

might flash that light in someone else’s direction
who might think, “Huh. I never thought of that.”

But you’ll likely never know that it resonated
in them, not like a sonorous church bell,

but softly, like breeze tickling slender wind chimes.
Which, if you’re lucky, is how it will echo in you.

•••

After Joy Sullivan’s “Why read poetry if it won’t make you rich?”
which I highly recommend from her terrific collection,
“Directions for Traveling West” © 2024, Penguin Random House

•••

Thanks to poet Julia Fehrenbacher for the prompt! Her
latest lovely collection, “This, Too: Words to Walk You Home,”
is available, signed by the poet, on etsy.com.