Pebble

Against the steel grey backdrop of sky, it’s raining leaves. The wind buffets the trees sending blazes of vibrant reds, deep oranges and brilliant yellow colors dancing at my feet on the wooded path. A few trees, rising tall above the spring-fed creek, hold tight to summer’s last vestiges of lime green and emerald, and I stand protected within this living canvas.

I retreated to a safe place where the only dangers are seen in the startled gaze of a deer or heard in the rattle of a snake. It’s a place where I know the shapes of poison oak, ivy and sumac lurking in the shadows. It’s a place where I know the depth of the caves and the height of the ridge. I know where the river’s currents will pull you under and where its peace will help you rise above.

I retreated from a concrete land where unseen dangers swept between the skyscrapers and swirled around me. I could feel their cold fingers clawing at my throat. In the abyss, they waited for me to fail and to fall. Evil lived in sight of the sun, mocked my steps and taunted my emotions.

And so, I came to stand amidst fall’s foliage. I stand until I root in the earth like the towering trees. I look until I find my space and in my vision; a small stone. It washed onto the creek bank after years of torrential rains and powerful currents tossed it against other rocks and boulders. After journeys from unknown places and pummeled and smoothed by time, it rests at my feet.

As I leave, it rains again. Mixed with the leaves are heaven’s tears showering grace and mercy. I hold fast to my pebble as the city’s skyline comes into view.