The tree weeps deep
dark red leaves. None have fallen.
The birds dance softly in the dusk,
& the cicadas—-quieted now—-buzz around gently.

I pray that time
be gentle with us

A sharp purple geranium falls from the Heavens,
gravity, like time, impeding on the mundane.
But no, the crying tree catches her stem,
sparing her. God was merciful. Gentleness prevailed.

I pray that we, too, are saved
by something broken