My mother gave me a gift
In passing
One day long ago:

Don't ask people questions,
she said;
People will tell you what
They want you to know.

What they want you to know
They want you to know what

They want you to know

So I don't ask questions.
I let the stories find me.

Stories? Yes.
They are people

Always people who don't much bother
With the where and the when
And often not very much even with the who

They start with the what--
What happened
What happened to them
What they made happen

But they don't stay there very long

Always they are interested
In the why of the thing

And if these stories are my friends
We look for it together,
Always and forever
And without ever asking

Seeking to know why.

One Single Impression