Constantly Being

A stick fell of me
It stuck in the ground
became a tree

A leaf fell of a book
Proved well
Memories need loving

Ten things I willed
To my past self
I am graceful in the rain

A word fell to my fingertip
I put it to my ear
Whispers my secret music

A splendid breath arose
To become rain-heavy cloud
And to breathe me out

- Seattle, 2010

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