It starts with a single note, a word,
Pencil line or brushstroke,
A particular color or flavor or texture,
Leading to another and then another,
As something more begins to emerge,
Some structure or theme or idea,
Some story for the mind to follow,
And just then the phone rings
Or the dog barks and all is lost
Except this thin thread,
Fragile and fine as cobweb,
Which I will follow all day as it leads
Ever so slowly to what is next.
