Write What's Mistaken

I drive the muted miles from St. Paul
and listen to a trumpet on the radio
It cries to the stars.
Even the emptiness is trembling.
                  - Tim Young

Young writes about how he searches each word for everyone's ache. He opens a dark beauty from the smallest grain of grief, the way the ant works on the peony.

Notice the drops on the rose. Observe an insect trapped or nourished by the dew.

How often do we misunderstand what we see? What is mistaken in the emptiness?

Write about an event that you misinterpreted from another perspective.