Why, when wandering alone in park or forest, I hesitate and place my hand on a certain tree is not a question worth consideration unless you collect Dylanesque answerless questions. There is a ghost gum. We both respire; we will expire so why not marry? Observant birds overhear my single note which accompanies interior drum. Transfixed and briefly fixed, I may close my eyes, lean treeward. You now know what I think I know. This happens and I only wonder it didn’t begin sooner.