Khí chất của bài thơ Aura of the poem

Aura of the poem

The poem travels just ahead of the traveller.
It checks in for the night,
lowers the blinds,
makes tea.
The traveller gets angry with the flight delays,
is held up
by missing baggage,
gets soaked to the skin by
the unpredictable downpour of the one
torrential evening of the dry spell.

The poem sits and waits,
warms the room,
arranges all to make it welcoming.
Sometime after midnight
the traveller turns the key
and the glow of some
unfathomable beauty
dries the anguished moisture
on his skin.