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