first off, nothing high-minded about this quest.
rather ordinary, truth be told aloud. there.
or rather, there, it was there. was being operative.
self-criticism never gets old even when first-borne.
my grandmother always raised her arm, farewell
when I walked down the block, away from her.
like this. you see?
I wanna mean that personally. like you know
from me to you. and if you’re wondering, yes
I mean you. you, reading this.
it is humbling to think the difference I’ll make
a day from now, a month, fifty years, fossilized.
then again, intention is.
happening only means this one moment here,
standing alone, with you.
there, that tail you see. that’s why.
intention matters to me. why I write.
and the joy that takes a breath
when you read.