Siblings

We are like the fingers on our hand;
when an echo from the mountain calls 
you, our ears perk, our nose twitch,
until we know you are still in the sun.

We are the petals of the flower;
we shudder in unison in the rain,
we smile at the touch of the sun.

When we begin to fall, one by one, in the wind
of time, we shed tears celebrating our lives,
until the last one to go. Wish to come back
as we were; petals of the flower;
year after year.

©Byung A. Fallgren