Poems Formed

Are poems formed
in the rain?

Do their cells divide?
Do the words provide
release
from pain?

Do they grow
in the snow?
Are they bold
as the cold
clings to wounds
left to mold,
rot and grow
with the strain?

Do they flee
with the sun
all ablaze--
do they run
from the light,
seeking night?
Or will day
snatch the veil--
show the grief--
it made plain?