The wind rushes in from all directions, and the trees know not which way to sway
Tumbling down the mountainside with the last rays of sunlight
The clouds of dust rise but she sees none of it
She sits on a rock, writing a letter
goodbye
in my spinning world I imagine
I find her again
I imagine
our words, with their vanishing sounds
will lift away the folded chorus of pastpresent that surrounds us
But just as this impossible silence begins
an image of myself
unfolds
warm and safe and soft
and that moment will be like the reflection of an entire landscape being captured in a single drop of water
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