I’m looking at the white heron
stepping daintily on the muddy riverbank at low tide
I’m thinking what I want to write today
The thought escapes and now a fugitive
To search between coherence and acceptance,
silence is not easy, formlessness can’t remain.
The pendulum will swing back
carrying some words stitched together
one half haphazardly, the other half arranged like a quilt.
I’m between thoughts
being ahead or being behind has no meaning when one is not hurrying,
still, we want to reach the finish line.
Finding you and continue our dialogue
can be exhausting though you are buoyant
I want to share your optimism.
edgarone2
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