Do you love things that plummet? Do you adore rain falling in sheets or water over the ledge, splashing clear joy?
Do you love velvet drapes plunging into a royal red pile on the stage of life?
How about wisteria, how it drenches spring in ribbons of lush lavender, how the breathless beauty falls through cracks, over fences, how it softens the edges of anything?
Then there is the matter of knees. They descend willingly, slowly into the dark depths when all is lost, or seems to be.
What falls calls you, opens you, touches you, lifts you.