Learn to wake up at the beginning of a misstep, on the way to the garden before your words sprout.
Wake up before the trowel digs them into the crooked row, before the watering can pours, before the row is marked with stakes and bright twine.
Wake up, too, prior to your words landing on a staff, before notes form, before they have sound.
Breathe. Pause. There’s no rush.
Where will this song take you-us-them? Where will it travel and how long?
Your song of words, is it life-giving? Is it the sound of nourishing rain, the sun, the moon?