How a poem finds its ending

A place to begin

At the edge of the familiar, we often find something we had stopped noticing. A doorway. A sentence underlined years ago. The shape of a question that has quietly changed while we were busy doing other things. To return to it is to discover that attention is never quite the same twice.

Looking a little closer

There is a particular kind of patience involved in looking closely. It asks us to resist the first explanation, to stay with what is not yet clear. We begin by naming what we can see. Then we notice what our names have left out. The most useful discovery may be a new question, rather than a final answer.

“Leave a little silence in the day. Something beautiful may arrive without a sound.”

What we carry forward

What matters, perhaps, is the conversation that continues after the page is closed. A thought becomes part of another thought. An observation finds a place in an ordinary afternoon. The reader brings a whole life to these words, and the words leave with a little of that life inside them.