I watch as tiny beads of water
form and roll to the center of a giant
amazed by the way each droplet holds it shape,
smooth and firm like a rounded piece of rising dough
or oil poured into a cup of water.
I think of the time my cheap necklace broke
all over the floor,
glass beads rolling into the air vent,
bouncing off the baseboard,
hiding between tufts of the carpet.
But this is different.
Spheres skim the surface of the green.
They gather together and morph into one shiny thing.
They gain momentum
and look so happy zooming like marbles around the rim of the waxy basket until at last they join together, settling in a pool at the center of the leaf, collecting
and reflecting green.
giant flower petals, the bold strokes of ancient paintings,
wait for a thoughtful gaze or a gasping admirer or the
quiet meditation of grandfathers with their hands gently clasped behind their backs.
Thoughts move through the air as water circles the leaf.
Instead of absence there is an abundance
of clarity. The kind that turns heads and hearts.
The kind that changes minds.
The kind that covers a pond and holds tiny drops of water.
The kind of beauty that comes after rain.