I’m a fellow of questions—yes, questions galore.
If a thought knocks once, I go answer the door.
Whenever I hear something curious or new,
My mind begins to ponder. “Is it really true?”
In school, after hearing my chalk-dusted guide,
I’d lift my hand from curiosity welling up inside.
The teacher had said something I didn’t know,
So I added my what-if question to the show.
Often, she’d explain with a nod and a smile,
But sometimes she’d sigh, pausing for a while.
Her eyes seemed to say, without speaking a word,
“Let’s finish the lesson before we chase birds.”
My mornings with God are a different affair.
I write him a letter and expose my thoughts there.
I tell him my worries, although he knows them all,
Then pile up my questions, both big and small.
I chatter and ponder and scribble away,
About this and that at the start of the day.
Then sometimes I hush and listen a bit
To silence that settles in, right where I sit.
Once in a while, in the stillness so deep,
A thought sneaks om, awakened from sleep.
A whisper of wonder, a spark in the air,
A hint of an answer is suddenly there.
So thoughts go rumbling, and questions take flight,
Like kites catching breezes of the day’s first light.
They whirl and they wander, soaring high in the sky.
And they land with insights that brighten my eye.
Then I have to write them down in a hurry—
Or the ideas are gone, leaving in a flurry.
I must do it now, or they’ll wander away,
Like clouds that are gone by noon each day.
Questions, I have found, are remarkable things.
They open up doors, and they give your mind wings.
So if one pops in while you’re thinking or planning,
Write down the thought—before it goes scrambling.
