The planet turns …
and night falls.
We are all moved.
I used to dabble in poetry much more when I was younger. I kept a small, spiral-bound notebook and filled it with poems. I used to attend live readings at various coffeehouses when I lived in Austin. It was fun and inspiring.
Eventually, I just stopped writing poetry. I’m not sure why, but it happened. Then, just the other night, this one hit me. I was walking down the stairs in my house, and it was dark. I’ve done that countless times, but for some reason, I stopped in my descent. It hit me that this darkness had come as I sat upstairs typing away on the computer. It was the same house, but now it was shrouded in darkness. It had changed, and the inevitable magic that comes with night enveloped me. I had moved without moving.
I hope you like this little foray of mine back into poetry. I doubt it indicates more to come, but it felt very profound to me.
Dance of the Butterfly 