In the afternoon following a hard frost,
nearly an inch of slow rain,
and a hurricane two thousand miles away,
I pause by a single scarlet leaf
as large as a man’s hand
that has landed by a small puddle on the concrete patio.

Its color is brilliant even in the muted tones
below an overcast sky,
and the puddle is pocked by slow drizzle
and a scattering of tiny twigs and locust leaves.

In the middle of the moment
of such glowing attention to such a trivial thing,
I wonder if it is somehow indecent of me
to ponder and marvel at such simple beauty
in the midst of such destruction and heartache
that the same Nature brings
in some other place…

Whether resolution or practiced self-delusion,
I realize that even if I bathe my soul in tears
and cloak myself in years of sorrow and mourning,
it would not lessen in the least
the suffering of these other ones.

I remember, too,
that there are other forms of caring
and that the simplest act of giving
gives greater power to faith
than all of life’s lamenting.

I will praise the God who gives
and takes away
and will find goodness in the day that He has made:

I will cherish the flower and the fallen leaf,
offer something other than a cup of cold water to those in grief,
and will consider that a single moment of contradiction
neither diminishes nor increases
the terms of the leases we are given
in these marvelous wonders of Creation called “flesh,”
destined for death and glory
when a renewed Story will be written on new tablets
when all of sorrow is ended.