The Collector

I add my smoke
to the fog.

A hundred poems come to me at once
still none touch the truth.

Yes, I am the collector.
I collect pipes and rings

memories, poetry, pastimes
and things

I collect them all for You
Along the way.

You can follow me,
if you like,

by the sweet scent of Cavendish
hanging in the damp fog;

a bit of smoke still lingering
to draw you into your next poem.