The origin, the seed
how one begins
is not always known.
Leaves filter the light
sometimes luminous lines appear
murmurs arise, slowly fade
you are playing with a cat
noises outside distract your attention
young adults riding bicycles passing
outside the window are talking loudly
You search your memory
when you were at that age
developing the habit of repetition
riding around town and along the river
your imagination arranging images
the commotion when fishermen arrived at the dock
the boats, smell of the sea, fish, big and small.
You bike back home
like completing a loop in memory
you will listen to the language of the birds
unsurprisingly calming at the end of the day.