Before You Know What Kindness Really Is

I Have Always Loved The Gaps, The Spaces Between Things, As Much As The Things. I Love Staring, Pondering, Mulling, Puttering. I Love The Times When Someone Or Something Is Late-there's That Rich Possibility Of Noticing More, In The Meantimepoetry Calls Us To Pause. There Is So Much We Overlook, While The Abundance Around Us Continues To Shimmer, On Its Own.

My Mother Used To Tell Me When I Went Somewhere, "please Leave Your Foolishness At Home." But How Could I Do That? It Was Stuck On Me.

Later Our Dreams Begin Catching Fire Around The Edges, They Burn Like Paper, We Wake With Our Hands Full Of Ash.

The Thousands Small Birds Of January In Their Smooth Soaring Cloud Finding The Trees.

I Want To Be Famous In The Way A Pulley Is Famous, Or A Buttonhole, Not Because It Did Anything Spectacular, But Because It Never Forgot What It Could Do.