A heavy sigh.  That's all we ever give at the fall.  Such a painful going, truly.  As the first blade is thrust into our sides, our life-blood oozes out, coating your feet sticky sweet.

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I hope you get some joy out of it, some meaning or happiness.  I must believe you do, or I would fall much heavier, groan much deeper than I already am fated to do.

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Going gently is easier, less painful for the young ones who know they will grow to fall, too.

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Have you considered the tragedy?  Have you counted our rings, seen how young we are, how much more life we have to give?

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photo by brendan henning.