.  SHE TELLS HIM HOW NOW SHE IS REARRANGED  This sadness, tears, this vulnerability  are shock waves of the hurt.  What was my hurt?  I still look around me  in every direction.  What is my fear?  I dream that everywhere I go  there is no one to support me.  What is my need?  Who am I when November winds  spread over the grey hills  sing in my nest of bones?  Who is it trails my hand  from the drifting canoe  in north lake waters?  I am the answer and the water  and the wind.  