Air and Light and Time and Space

I knew a man who was a poet,
And he was a poet in a very unusual way—
He wove his words like a web of dreams,
And spun them down like sunlight rays.

He painted portraits of the past,
And depicted skies of azure blue;
With every stroke of his brush,
Life sprung forth, anew.

He sang of air and light and time,
Of gentle streams and winds that blow;
He captured visions of noonday sun,
And whispered secrets only nature knows.

• James Weldon Johnson