sometimes…and then,

Jul 15, 2026

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sometimes, a cello’s bow
drawn gently across the string
awakens a sound we forgot to remember.

sometimes, a line of poetry stills our breath;
we don’t know why.

sometimes, the scent of a rose is so heady
we return to another time, another place.

did we miss anything important,
pausing to meet the rose?

does it matter?

and then, we hear the hush
before the first snowflake falls,
or the mountains pray when it rains,
or tall pines sing ancient songs.

and then, we write the first line of our first poem,
or the hundredth.

sometimes we’re surprised by whimsy
and then…

we laugh,
aloud,
a lot.

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