I THOUGHT I had something to say to her when our eyes met across the hedge. But she passed away. And it rocks day and night, like a boat, on every wave of the hours the word that I had to say to her. It seems to sail in the autumn clouds in an endless quest and to bloom into evening flowers seeking its lost moment in the sunset. It twinkles like fireflies in my heart to find its meaning in the dusk of despair the word that I had to say to her.

DEATH BELONGS to life as birth does.
The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down.

LIKE THE meeting of the seagulls and the waves we meet and come near.
The seagulls fly off, the waves roll away and we depart.