I wrote four words today.
Just four.

I bleed my hours into them.
Each syllable
I
weigh.

Like lifting stones from a dry riverbed,
turning each
over
and
over,
until one feels just right
in my hand.

Carefully
carving,
studying
and playing
with each one:
  Which catches the light just right?
  Which plays well with the others?
  What are you trying to tell me?

But mostly,
I discard.

Four words.

All my labor for the day--
Just four words.

It was a good day.

I read four words today.

Just four.

But their weight
stills
me.

I bow my head and
turn them
in my hands.

What are you asking me?
What are you trying to tell me?
What do you see?

I fold the paper.

I close
my
eyes.

Just four words.