The wind whispered in my ear...

they give sound to my movement...

I was asking you what you were telling me, but you simply were and had no need of me.

I longed to be like you.

Your form so beautiful as you dried and descended to the ground.

Your edges caught in a beautiful undulation.

Your form folded and curved as you dried and fell.

You look as if you have captured the expression of a wave of the invisible wind.

One moment you were delicate and soft, your coloring bright.

Now you are dry and brittle, shades of beautiful browns.

The intricacies of your veining endless and mesmerizing.

And still I ask you what are you telling me.

You say, nothing I simply am.

I am caught in your beautiful forms.

Painful to me in their beauty.

I pick a few of you up to bring inside and drop the one that had this most delicate undulation in it's side.

Letting you go and the sudden loss brings me slowly to tears.

And so I make room for grief.

I am sitting on the ground in the afternoon sun and letting myself cry.

That I am still here at all is miraculous to me.

That I don't want to be here is painful and deeply understandable.

And so I ask you what are you telling me.

I am telling you nothing, I just am.