Beneath a Different Tree

The grass breathes, the leaves above us split the sunlight into spangles that dazzle and fade. The woman that I love more than anything in the world rests her arm across my chest, and the earth beneath my back goes all the way down to the center of the earth.

I think, "It's such a nice day, and that woman who hanged herself will never see it."

But all I say is, "It's a nice day."