You came into my thoughts just before 5 today. I felt a poem and sat down here to write but no words would come from the dark before light. There’s a poem on the circle somewhere looking for a place to emerge on a page, and there are words in my heart for you trying to escape from the cage but I can’t hear them. I can’t see them. They feel like love and they turn and they run and they spin some. I suppose the poem sits on some kind of long curved shelf of a seabed and the words themselves sit like seashells waiting for a wave to wash away the sand to clean them. Maybe they’ll appear a short while on the shore and someone will polish them and read them, or maybe a bigger wave will roll on in and the tides will subside and the waters recede and the dawn of this day will reveal only sand with the shells gone, leaving beauty. The words of the poem pulse through the blood in my heart, for you, heartbeats of love for you.