The Quiet Signal

A kettle hums softly. The house takes a breath. Somewhere, a bird tries out a note and leaves the rest of the song for later.

One kind word begins us, a hand unclenching in the dark.

Then day arrives, carrying its weather. Still, beneath the noise, a steady thing keeps shining, asking nothing but notice.

By evening, the window holds the sky for one last moment. We hold it too, then let the stars take over.