Poetry in Motion

In the fog of pubescence
That hangs thick over the slog
That is adolescence
My sullen tongue knew
Not poetry nor song, so that
I naively heard Johnny
Tillotson divinely sing
"Pole or tree in motion"
As the school bus passed by
Passing poles and trees.
I clearly did not comprehend
Then what I now understand.
What is there left to say?
Let words and music have sway.