My sister Cara passed five years ago, on December 7, 2019, just before Covid assaulted us, well before anyone in our family was prepared to deal with her loss. I doubt though there is a moment we are ready to lose someone we love. It just happens and where we can find strength we do. This poem appeared to me on Saturday morning and I held onto it, not sure there is any way to speak about Cara and the way she was my sister and my friend. The poem is not enough for this, but it is something. I say appeared because I had not intended to write about Cara. The poem at first was about laundry, then poinsettias, then the sounds that trees make, then cats. And then suddenly Cara's voice was there, the purr of tulip poplars when the wind blows, a whisper and a reminder that she is still here.