“Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches, and here is my heart which beats only for you.”
“Futures not achieved are only branches of the past: dead branches.”
“It’s December in Florida, and there are still a few leaves clinging on the branches for dear summer.”
“What branch does not have its leaves and which twig will not have its flowers?”
“A narrow pond would form in the orchard, water clear as air covering grass and black leaves and fallen branches, all around it black leaves and drenched grass and fallen branches, and on it, slight as an image in an eye, sky, clouds, trees, our hovering faces and our cold hands.”