My poem “Lullaby for the Hour Between” was selected as a Friday Feature by Thistle and Thread Press on September 19, 2025.

 

The piece reflects on the quiet, unremarkable moments of daily life, the hum of a fridge, the soft call of a child, the patience of growing things, and how they become music when we pause to notice.

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Read it here.

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Lullaby for the Hour Between

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I set the cup down and the house answers with its own quiet.
Steam loosens from the rim and climbs the window like slow handwriting.
Somewhere upstairs, a small sock is missing its partner and a storybook sleeps open.
I tell myself there will be time, then I make it, right here, with breath.

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The dog blinks at the threshold. The floor remembers footsteps.
Outside, pine leans into sky, and the sky forgives everything by being sky.
If a song is needed, it begins with the hum of the fridge, the wet tick of the sink,
the low thrum of a body worked through the night, still willing to notice.

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I think of the ones who came in and left, the ones who stayed, the ones who will return,
their names folded in the pocket of my mind like receipts I never toss away.
I stir matcha and it draws a green galaxy, quiet as a promise.
I am learning to bless what is unremarkable.

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The spoon touches porcelain. The room nods back.
When a child calls, I go.
When the kettle cools, I pour what remains into the herbs on the sill.
They ask only light, water, patience.
I give them all three. What grows is music.