It was a quiet evening for tarot cards
musings about life,
listening to the sounds 
of darkness and the faint roar 
of ocean in winter.

Poetry was slowly 
stirring again, 
and she quietly observed 
the creation process. 

Knowing if she tried 
to grasp the tender threads 
of words, just rising, 
force them into greater growth 
before their time—

They might snap and 
staunch that which was slowly 
coming to rise.

We cannot force the
quiet starts and small sparks 
within our hearts, but 
we can gently stay 
with our process and trust 
the soft seeds 
of new life.

The sea crooned with muted roars. 
Crickets and starlight hummed.
The cards told a story of 
surrender and rebirth. 

It was a night for beginnings,
recollecting and ocean’s roar.