The Bridge of Chance

The Autumn leaves have been freed from their anchorages, to float down or travel by wind to new places. Most of the ground is thick carpeted now. Nearby, a light rain draws circles in the little stream where the flat water becomes a grey-green canvas. And the sky shows through now that the cover is gone. Storm waves toss about on a sea of upper air, dark against the light touches below. But the day has much to share along the leaf-carpeted trail. Down near the stream I venture along its sides, watching the ripples and reflections like some movie show. Three teenagers, black clothed, come by and stand for a moment like me. I wonder what they see, how they feel. But soon they leave. Then I spot a curious sight. A leaf is frozen in space, as thought floating along the side of a tree. What could catch a leaf and hold it in the air? The yellow surface seems so scratched with tiny lines. And behind it, the small white dashes of the birch tree form a background. Then I see the sharp daggered tip of a wooden spear. It holds the leaf suspended. I then know, that even the softness of a leaf can be caught if the conditions are right. These chance encounters are many if looked for carefully. And in looking around, I do find other examples of caught leaves; some have holes that catch upon a small twig or hang in the branches--on things that catch. But the leaf has something else--a small insect wanders over the bridge of stem, making its way to the tree. It has a blue body with orange legs, and a long antennae. I wonder how has it come to be in this quiet woods, that these things have found me? I suppose this is one of those moments where a chance meeting converges into a happening. The surprise delights me, as though I had discovered a rare treasure out here in the rain.