So tell me, the bird on the high wire that sways with the wind, does it thank the air around for buffeting it, holding it in an invisible caress? For giving it, quite open handed, the buoyancy to spread its wings and fly free ? The asopalav stands tall, so sensitive that it sways with the lightest touch of the wind, perhaps it needs that slight shake, a knowing glance bashfulness that is known only to them, to show off its rich glittering green when sunlight showers gold. Perhaps the asopalav knows this, and when the wind runs fingers through its leaves, it whisper-nods its thanks to the sky.