Reserved for Poets by Naomi Shihab Nye

(signs on first rows of chairs at poetry festival, La Conner, Washington)

Sunsets.
Trouble.
Full moons.
No really—they’re everybody’s.
Nothing is reserved.
We’re all poets rippling with    
layers of memories,
mostly what we might forget.
Let it belong.  Every pocket,     
satchel, hand.
We forgot to make a reservation.
But there’s room.

~ from Voices in the Air (Greenwillow Books, 2018)