Weeping developed from an experience which for me starred man’s insensitivity to nature’s needs. Some years back in early spring a tree crew trimmed branches off all the trees on Lyme Street. The trees wept from their open wounds for days. It was difficult for me to walk down the street. I felt such incredible pain. Like the trees the sculpture doesn’t look in pain. It has the soft understated drip, drip, drip, melding into a pool of tears dissolving into the earth.