Writing poetry often involves the act of condensing moments into visible form on the page – taking the physical and emotional weight of an event, a thought, and occurrence, and transferring it to a visible form there on the page. The act, I think, is always different levels of reductive, but that’s always been the nature of art that stands as a reflection of something else. That being said, it’s easier to reduce and press something bigger – loud moments, concepts, emotions all press in loud ways onto the page – the leap to turn these things into words isn’t such a large one.
Quiet emotion is a different thing entirely. The difficulty is that you run the risk of loading the visual with too many words, too much weight – the instant stretches on, and on, and what was this ephemeral thing, rendered beautiful in how finite it is, has been stretched into a form that doesn’t really resemble itself anymore.