I stopped looking
For you,
And looked for me instead.
It wasn’t a leaving,
But a staying,
Not a wandering,
But a rumination.
The long, slow days
Of summer spent
Watching, not searching.
My solitary viewpoint
Yielded interior
Bounty I had not known.
Across the field
I saw you resting too,
And realized that
To find you I only
Needed to
Stand sill
And listen.
Categories: Poetry