This afternoon I cross the Montparnasse cemetery, sit for awhile on a bench. The trees are so splendid!
Already in the crowded Metro moments before I had been filled with joy, riding with the others, strangers every one, sharing this life with them all together. Each touched me as they were.
Then in the rue Emile Richard, the trees are so splendid! I bow under their elegant, gentle canopy, a cathedral of swaying limbs.
In the cemetery, I recall someone’s question: Is silence a place, or is it a when?
Over my shoulder, a chestnut tree.