Some of us can’t see the wood
for the piles of notes
obscuring the windows –
notes on paper,
in the making of which
the established view has had to be dismantled.
We try another tack,
bend our minds to an alternative approach,
but down on the beach
it’s high-note tide,
the smooth and shiny stones all
lost beneath a swell of notes.
We construct an origami boat,
roll up notebooks for oars
and paddle staunchly to the horizon
where novel observations
are reeled aboard like minnows
and several drownings are noted.
Those of us who make it back to shore
find much has changed since we set off –
even the words sound different now.
We chase meanings
down rabbit holes, tap into our Notes apps
where they might have gone,
a new note for every one.
At some point we’ll sit down and filter
our notes – sift through the flotsam
to distil the pure, forward-facing
thoughts into a piece of work.
But not today.
