The water signals in the storm. Whites and blacks, all but glitter, foretelling the end of a long spring. He passes the tree I once stood behind so long ago. I feel the gaze of the past as it threatens to speak to him now. Begone, you foul breath, you horrid sight. I'd cast you if he wasn't standing so close. His breath disappears once it leaves his lips, but I, still frightened, lead him past the tree of yesterday.

*Into the forest I run, alone in my dream. This day it comes undeterred by my wake. I live the dreams I run in.*

She calls among the sick, a small snort, whispers between the cracks and up beyond their shoulders, head to hair, back to chest, they sigh lightly. Her friend reaches out, silenced from brow to beard. What a lovely dance for two.