Storycatcher
Inside me, stories wait.I can plunge my hand in and stir them up, like brown leaves dancing in water.But I cannot catch them, for if I try they grow wings like starlings and fly, scattering beyond my reach.Instead I must wait, patient, like the fisherman.Let my fingers tickle the water, rather than plunging in.My heart open,HopingThat one will slide into my open handAnd decide to stay, for a while.
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