We had rehearsed our story
so many times. We had imagined
great cachet in it, in the moment
we could look back, victorious,
and the eager ears that would
take in our tale

Funny to notice
how little difference
it turned out to make,
how all the dramas we narrated
to ourselves, and to imagined others,
seem irrelevant,
caught up, as we are,
in the constant music,
in the enchanting brightness,
ever unfolding,
of here.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 16, 2017