Yesterday, it was the call to make dessert for the ones you love, and the kitchen
became a theater of heavy cream and good intentions. Later, you needed
the deserted island of a blank page, and the next day, a run followed by the hottest shower
your body could stand. This morning, a litany of lists pulling at your sleeve,
you wandered through the quiet rooms of your house, waiting for the coffee to brew,
for something to take shape in the dark. You realize, often, how your movements look
a little on the shifty side, your path fashioned by a compass few can recognize or follow.
And yet here you are, covering ground nevertheless, leaning into the instrument of your heart,
building the map song by song, even when the notes toss you somewhere you never intended.
Especially when they do.