I don’t think that flowers blooming make any noise or sound even.
I know for sure that fallen leaves crunch underfoot in retreat on October afternoons in Alberta.
I know that from chasing your scared soul across provinces, GMC Sierra in high gear over mountains; cigarette in clenched hand as you read maps and they all lead here all at once.
You are all the cherry blossoms all at once drifting down and snowing my earthed path.
You are my path.
I love you, Starfish.