A Moment at Ground Level

Too many days spent guarding ledges and tightening fasteners. This morning, I took the pedestrian path down toward the park across from the avenue. A dried maple leaf had caught against the edge of a timber bench, dry and fragile. I knelt and picked it up between my heavy gauntlets, testing its brittle veins without crushing them. Sitting back against the sunlit wood grain, I let the avenue rush past without stepping into its path. Sometimes the perimeter holds itself.