PAUSE

To pause,

to hear silence,
and then the sound of a truck

shifting gears, backing up,
somewhere in the morning distance,
to see a smile
or the whole face of a grandmother babysitting,
to hold the silver spoon still
so as to look at what I'm eating,

the chocolate chip ice cream

or the Cheerios, in spite of

the desire to eat too fast,

or to taste the morning coffee,
to cross out or delete a word
for a better or just the right word
in a love note or a simple e-mail,
to not reach

for the orchestra sounding cell phone,
because the live persons around the table
are far more important,
to pause, to second guess
what I was about to do or say,
and then to say or do something better,
to pause, better to realize
at a pause, I'm in a choice moment,
and I can choose otherwise,
now that is what makes me human.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2010