To suddenly be startled by  the thought of having an ex-husband.
Or,  out-of-the-blue, to  remember one has lived in India – twice! – and never seen the Taj Mahal.
Or the sound of the rain on the roof in the night making one think of having toes that descend like a stairway.
Or finding oneself sighing when suddenly feeling so fiercely, so innocently Canadian.
Or the cosiness of a shawl cloaking one's shoulders outdoors in winter causing one to wonder – and perhaps glimpse! – a parallel universe and a shepherd on a hillside wondering back at me.
Or suddenly really, really, really seeing a dimple and thinking, "Why, that's a dimple."
Or stopping when going out a door and pausing for five seconds and realizing the rest of life now unfolds differently for pausing for those five seconds.

Thoughts like that.
What on earth is the purpose?
Except – perhaps – perhaps! – to cast a poem around them.
Corral them for a viewing.