The leaf that dropped
in yellow-red, twirly-twists
at my feet (escaping holy despair).
Brushed the nylon and thinly constructed
anonymous barrier that so
encapsulates my feet.
Emasculates.
Trudging this chosen, mid-day jaunt.
Think safari or a walk-about
on these 9 feet of semi-created grass and
leaf-strewn margins.
Between the sidewalks.
Kind of a shitty safari -
this weak walk-about.
But that long, lengthy, loop
of yellow and red
was more Christ than His glazed image
in my office;
offered more hope than the plastic
flowers in this holy house;
spoke volumes and freshly
of tired theologies on “redemption” and “grace.”
Consider the leaf
of my 9 foot field - my 9 foot Safari.
For Solomon in all his glory and splendor
did not dress – or dance – as one of these.