Something passes between eye and ear,
a glimpse, then gone, I can’t identify—a dark
blur or glint of the ethereal, or pinhole peak
into another dimension we have yet to name.
The hunter’s eye catching movement,
the cowboy chasing shapes beyond confined,
I am reminded of Tom Homer’s quote
passed down to me: ‘He looks—
but just don’t see.’ And sometimes
a glimpse is all we need to trigger, to inspire,
to stir the brain and then the flesh, or visa versa—
sometimes it is the yet unnamed
that begets a renaissance of thought. Here,
we leave the gate open just in case.