March 4, 2002
Might I borrow you a leaf

When the wind blows… a branch is the forest falls—a chunk of history will soon be forgotten about. Therefore, a tree with no branches must suffer from Alzheimer’s. The woodpecker begins hammering his face, tiny plants require the shade—most anybody would cut it down to haul it away… I do nothing more than sit here and just wonder. Who was here when that tree was tiny? Did anyone walk by it to touch its first leaves? Maybe this is why I write everyday—when my thoughts are gone… someone can read the story.