The Weather Does Not Owe Us a Forecast

The mind wakes in pieces.

No emergency.

Nothing has necessarily been misplaced.

A thought is simply in another room.

A memory has gone outside without leaving a note.

Curiosity is sitting beside the window,
watching something we cannot yet see.

The weather changes.

It does not consult the calendar.

It does not explain itself.

It does not promise to become clearer by noon.

Somewhere underneath it all,
something is still turning toward the unfamiliar.

Perhaps that is enough for tonight.
Perhaps understanding can wait
until the weather changes again.