We get in the car and take turns driving until dawn. We need to know that the world won’t be stolen while we’re sleeping. In the darkness, the trees have gone bare from grieving. Some are bent over. Others are trembling. They have loved us and are dying. Janice drifts off and I’m alone behind the wheel listening to their sweet, broken singing. They have always known that the world is vanishing. Yet even as they are dying…..raise their voices in celebration. I have promised to call out for them when they are gone. To search for them in the underworld and hold them in my arms as they have held me. I memorize each tree, each branch, each leaf, each trunk worn smooth with caring. I’ll know their names by heart when we meet in the garden of everything and nothing.
Charles Moulton – June, 2017