the smalls

Here's the thing about writing: the words meet you on the page. Usually, when I sit down to write, I think I have nothing to say. But when I start moving the pencil, something comes along. That something may not be profound. That something may not even make sense to most people. But usually, the words that show up change me. My mind has an agenda beyond my consciousness, which it is working out all on its own; if I can only stand back and let it happen. Amazing how much there is to learn by waiting; by gathering words in instead of frantically chasing them. Sit with a piece of paper. Start moving your pencil. See what wants to come out. See what God has created in you. Here is a random poem:

The Smalls

I move on

into the light,
so bright,
ahead.
I have studied
wonder
to the point
of searching
every day to
find it in
the smalls.
In the drabs.
In the magic of 
morning coffee.

The sunshine

as I walked my
dog this noon
positively
tickled me.

     -Kimberly Laustsen