Simply A Poet

I'm simply a poet,
dear reader
you see
whether or no others want me to be.
Si, as long as I'm at liberty
I'll wander there and here,
earning my bread from this odd world
by holding up to it a mirror.

My awe is easily won,
por exemplo:
a shabby, dreamy old man resting his broken arm in the university library,
a finely-bound history of hat-making randomly fallen into my hands,
or a green hill of sleepy pasture where just eons ago an American lion hungrily chased a sick camel.

Yes, many "poets" are pretentious,
writing flowery drivel,
and preening their egos at the reader's expense.
I hope you see that this isn't me:
I'm simply a poet, ya know.

After all, few talents were given me and...
these I've buried and all but lost
in a sparkling forest grove where once
I rested my bones a while
amid the four-leafed clovers and moss.

Simplamente, soy una poeta.