Today I saw some poetry

It wasn’t a day for grand adventures. The sky was draped in soft grays, and the air carried the kind of stillness that begged for attention.
I stepped outside, not with a destination in mind, but with a quiet curiosity.

There it was—poetry, not in words but in the world around me.
A single leaf, clinging to a barren branch, its veins like the echoes of life’s fleeting moments.
A path lined with shadows, each one softer than the last, whispering stories of where the light had been.

I saw poetry in the rhythm of a puddle rippling as a breeze brushed its surface.

The beauty wasn’t loud, it didn’t demand.
It waited, patiently, for me to notice.
And when I did, I felt an ache—a longing to hold on to these fleeting moments.

But poetry isn’t meant to be held.
It’s meant to be felt, just as it arrives.
It’s in the spaces between breaths,
in the pause before a sigh,
in the way the world slows when we let it.

I captured what I could—not to keep it, but to share it.
Because perhaps, when you see these images,
you’ll see your own poetry too.

And so, the day turned into something more—a quiet ode to noticing, to feeling, to being.