From the Quiet Verse – Issue #10
🗓️ June 6, 2025
“There is sacredness in arriving, even before you’ve finished the race.”
💌 Opening Reflection — Threshold Quiet
June often begins with urgency—sunlight stretching its hours, gardens shouting color, life opening every window.
We enjoyed a long weekend in the past couple of weeks, and that sparks the unofficial start of summer.
But in the Quiet Verse, on the threshold of fullness, there’s a soft hum worth noticing. A moment before bloom becomes overgrowth. A stillness before joy shouts its name.
Let’s honor the gentle spaces today. The subtle courage it takes to simply arrive.
✍️ A Quiet Line
“I did not set out / to conquer the fear. / I sat beside it.”
— from From Fear, Wisdom of the Quiet Muse
🌱 From the Garden — Lilac Memories
Aromas weave the air into layers of the past.
The lilac hedge doesn’t just bloom—it remembers.
There’s a pause—as if the flower must gather itself, recall every root, remember how to unfold.
In its scent lives springtime laughter, mothers’ gentle hands, and moments when everything felt tenderly infinite.
The tension of petals held shut—
not failure.
Grace building up.
📖 The Verse — The Ache Before the Fire
While assembling a new collection Arriving, this poem stood out.
Before transformation takes place, there is the ache of promise. Not who you were. Not yet who you will become.
I was tempted to flee the waiting,
to call the ache a pain or failure,
to bury it in crackle and ash.
But the quiet in me refused the running.
I stayed. I opened.
I pressed my palms to the quiet ache
and whispered, “Your time is important.”
Not every fire arrives in fury.
Some begin as a breath,
an ache, from the stillness.
And I—unburned, unbroken—remain.
Flammable, and faithful.
You don’t need to blaze to become—
Stay as the spark before the flame.
🕊️ A Gentle Prompt — “At the Edge of Bloom”
Prompt: Write a short poem or reflection that begins with the phrase:
“Just before it opened…”
Not the moment of triumph, but the moment just before. What does it mean to pause on the edge of becoming?
🌸 Quiet Gift — Poems of Quiet Renewal
This tender collection unfolds like a spring thaw—softly, slowly, with courage that doesn’t shout.
It begins in stillness, moves through self-tending and forgiveness, and ends with a joy that feels earned, not forced.
For those learning to trust small steps, to heal without rushing, and to begin again—quietly, truly, on their own terms.
🌿 Download your free copy here
🖋️ Editor’s Note
We’ve been gathering spring across collections lately—from Leaning Toward Light to Spring Flowers, from misty lanterns to dandelion wishes.
The bloom is real. But so is the ache that comes before it. This issue holds both.
Thank you for walking with us.
🌀 Seasonal Reflection — Firefly My Heart with Magic
“Guardians of the threshold,
keepers of the secret
dividing day from night.”
— from firefly my heart with magic, Threshold
As twilight stretches across our longer days, June evenings remind us: light is not just brightness. It is mystery, flickering just beyond the edge of knowing.
🔮 The Whisper Ahead
Next Issue: June 20 — The Quiet of Equality, the Solstice of Light
We’ll reflect on the sincere work of holding space for others. On how the longest day invites us not to perform, but to notice—each person, each shadow, each petal, equally bathed in sun.
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