/raindrops poised at the tip of a blushing leaf after a night of easy constant rain.  A drop of gel-infused water from my hair slides down my glasses.  Both.  Still.

They are not at the mercy of gravity drawn to the earth.  They don’t wait anxiously a fall.  There is no memory of where they have been or where they are going.  They aren’t even aware of where they are.  They simply are.

Trees leave love litter, bright scraps of tender confetti to Gaia.  Little notes of tender touching.  Sunflower bloom’s wrinkled squeezed tight petals that one by one peek out onto the soft warm autumn gray morning.  Divine love.