I have nothing else to offer, dear Life—words are what I breathe and eat, the clothes I wear,dreams that sing me to sleep, silence that greets me awake:words are the wea…

It isn’t easy to be stationary, and mute, even thoughmy corner of the park is comfortable—a corner splotchedwith the moving shadows of the years. And then there isthe laburnum, ecstatic bloomer, resid…