Sitting on the bench
under this weeping willow,
I talk to you.
As I throw my voice across
the breeze catches my words,
and brings them back to me.

I make
watercolor images of you
on my paper.
Stroke after stroke,
using shades that I like
to fill the crevices and gaps within me.

Tonight I throw pebbles idly
into the stream.
As fishes gather around them
I talk about us to the moon.