Cold wind blusters, fallen leaves swirl and dance along sidewalks.
Stubborn New Englanders walk swiftly, heads ducked
into the cold wind,
hands shoved
into pockets.
The town is rampant with refusal
to pull out the heavy coat, and
to admit the arrival of winter.
Sharp wails of a car alarm pierce the morning air.
I turn the corner and see a tow truck slowly inching up the hill,
hauling behind it a black pickup (by the seat of its pants.)
The tow truck protests its heavy load the entire way
in shrill, persistent bleats.
In a Moment you see something,
something beautiful,
something that gives you pause
and steals the breath from your lungs.
God I want to save it, want to share it, want to capture it and keep it…
And then the moment passes,
the wind blows the leaf onward.
The clouds move to veil the sun and steal the light.
But I bid you –
Be not disappointed.
These moments themselves are the true gifts.
January, 2006
Cambridge, MA
Advisor, Writer, Asker of Questions