Inside me, stories wait.
I can plunge my hand in and stir them up, like brown leaves dancing in water.
But I cannot catch them, for if I try they grow wings like starlings and fly, scattering beyond my reach.
Instead I must wait, patient, like the fisherman.
Let my fingers tickle the water, rather than plunging in.
My heart open,
Hoping
That one will slide into my open hand
And decide to stay, for a while.
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Helen Glynn Jones 
Very nice.
Thanks, Craig – hope all is well in your part of the world 🙂
Pretty fair. No hurricanes here.
Thank goodness for that!
That was lovely and so well personified. ❤
Thanks, Kristin 🙂
Love this!!
Thank you! 😊
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