The very complicated, crazy, incredible response to the question that so often governs our thoughts for days upon days on end: Why?

How can it be that I cannot exist without and with her

Sometimes I like to imagine we have the same eyes, brown with glints of green and yellow, like a sprouting garden in spring.

Silence spreads. 

It blankets churning mouths like grazing cows come frost.

Never has the silence echoed so. 

Can it be nothing more than new life?

Bounding through marshes

And clover 

And buttercup

And moss

And underneath that moss

Death