Every poem is a barometer, telling of the poet’s inner
weather, and every scene in the landscape serves as a wind
cone indicating the direction and velocity of the movements
of the spirit. I find in Hildegard of Bingen’s comment the best
definition of a poem yet—a feather on the breath of God.
If the poet is a seer, then he must look, and look intently, until
he finds a poem, or until the poem emerges from a rose, or a
stone in the garden, or a cloud formation, or the flow of the
tide. If in the morning a poet does not see a clear sky, he must
nonetheless proceed, whether the day promises to be fine or
partly cloudy, because every window that gives on the outside
is a frame that holds the view of an inner world.
—From the Introduction