Heart-shaped,
big as my outstretched hand,
this sturdy chocolate-brown leaf
brings news, could I but de-code it, from
high and far-away places. A sail like this could soar,
given the right updraft, around the world. I
found it in the yard and put it in the glass with my
comb and pens and pencils, where it
adorns my little bedside table and will not
crumble before I do. I am so
grateful to it and to the winds and to the earth who
bore both of us. Some day, maybe, I will find its
picture in a book and learn
where it came from - but maybe not, maybe it's
still undocumented. It does not need
pressing between sheets of waxed paper like the
saved leaves of my childhood, just
not to be stepped on. I
show it to the budgies in their copious cage in the
bird room; with their two-minute memories they
are unimpressed but they deserved to witness
our visitor. Now I'll hold its delicate but sturdy stem
and carry it back to my bedside to
grace my pencil-holder and remind us all of
mystery.
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