“So I plant acorns”,

she whispers to me.

This, after speaking about the world

as we know it

dying.

I don’t know her

but I know she likes

the break the rules,

has a face without artifice, stained sweatshirt sleeves.

We have brought ourselves here

to this place where we can hear howls

reverberate between mountain and sea.

I have told her about my dead father

and what is missing

now that I cannot hear his voice.

What to do with so much to lose?

“So I plant acorns”, she whispers,

so quietly, quietly

sharing hope for something to live

beyond us.