It is a lingering road that I’m embarking upon
allowing wonder to push perspective.
What reflects? I am a quiet pond. All ripples silence.
If I try, the price is to be what is left.
Who is competent is small.
Who is learning is finding themselves in poetry.
If I can, why shouldn’t I ask? I don’t know if
I will ever know. But I can learn.
What language shows and hides is in doubt.
Convincing you to let your expectations
fall way to a cradle of winter rain, icy
yet comforting in sound, like a sigh,
like a possible word to say thank you.