‘Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.’
T. S. Eliot Four Quartets
If there is such a thing as a muse
I’ve learned that mine dislikes Tuesdays
Perhaps even more than I do.
Poems are hard to catch at the best of times
On Sunday there was one under the bed
They like to hang out in hard-to-reach places:
In the margins
On the edges
Of liminal, transitional, spaces.
Between the lines
Between the bars
Between the wood and the trees
Between now and then
And here and there
They’re a hair’s breadth from nowhere.
Eliot found some of his best lines
In the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
I’ll be still now
And just listen
So they’ll know where they can find me.