a prose poem
Today, I was walking, and a fierce storm rolled in. When I stared into the trees, I watched the wind gently move countless branches. I squinted to see the curious reach of leaves and how, through the storm, they finally moved to touch one another. Almost, I could hear them laughing together. Knowingly. For many years, surely some were waiting for the right storm to bend them into feeling the friend next door. I could almost hear them whisper, Keep walking. Someday, it'll happen to you.
Lightning struck beside me, hitting the field near the batting cage, but I never flinched. See, some ducks hid in the runoff. Others stayed near the lake, telling me all was safe. Soon, a chipmunk crossed the path, heading for the other side. A pair of young deer spooked me in the woods. Geese gathered near the boat launch zone. Two teens fished, then stopped, hooks stuck in the thick weeds.
Soon, a three-year-old girl showed me her new, watermelon, clip-on earrings, and when I asked her if they hurt, she said, No. Come August 12, she'll be four. My mom looked and looked for these, she said. What pets do you have? she asked me. I answered, I had one cat, but now he's in heaven. She smiled wide, showing all teeth, and then her eyes widened, and she responded, Don't worry. He's with my Uncle Ralph. And you're with me.
C.A. MacConnell
