Example: What the moss knows

Example content. This poem is a placeholder to show how scribbles look. Replace it with your own writing.

The moss does not hurry.
It keeps the rain a little longer
than the stone would like,
and calls that a home.

I came here with a question
folded small in my pocket,
the kind you carry for weeks
until the edges soften.

The birches answered nothing.
The creek said the same word
over and over, gently,
the way you calm a child.

And somewhere between the ferns
and the grey light leaning in,
I stopped asking
and started listening.

Maybe that is all a making is —
borrowing the patience of green things,
returning it slightly changed,
almost original.