Every so often, without any effort by me, a poem comes into my mind. It sweeps in and catches me unaware of the wisdom about to be bestowed. If I pay attention, a full picture emerges.

No one came that day.
I sat still – watching rain fall.
It all became clear.

I love when this happens. Every so often I want to make it happen. I want to sit down and write a poem. Then I remember, it doesn’t work that way. My ‘work’ is to allow it to come. Allow it to unfold. To be open to it and awake enough to receive it.

One duck floating on a choppy pond.
What is she thinking about?
Nothing.

Grateful always
Paula