A mother calls from a thousand miles and tries to swallow her daughter whole through the earpiece of a phone. Amidst the cacophony of frogs, her silence is borrowed from trees as are the mauve flowers that sprout regularly in her hair.
2.
I have never seen moss growing on words. Dead branches, too, are alive in this rain. For three months the forest comes up all around and then disappears under your feet again. This is a good time to plant the Moringa, a woman’s best friend: you dig a hole, put a branch in and let the darkness take over.
3.
Trees may lie on the other side of language but there is nothing wrong with standing in the rain to recite a poem to a tree.
4.
Childhood memories fall on your skin as silver drops and in a short time you are completely soaked. Ripples intersect each other all afternoon. At night the rain falls at a slant, dragging you slowly to the memory of your first kiss while the leaves nod knowingly outside the window.
5.
There must be a way to talk to everything with faint outlines. Some things survive only in the rain.