Walking on Water?

It rained quite heavily last night and was cool today, so the roads were still quite damp and dark-looking.  The leaves have been falling steadily for weeks, of course, and in some places are ankle-deep, sometimes just scattered, but always, scattered in layers.  Some are red and some yellow, brown, some just silhouettes on the sidewalk, as if Nature were a stencil artist tagging the city.

Walking across one dark asphalt street I looked down at the leaves and for a dizzying moment felt as if I were walking across the surface of a pond.  One of those still, dark-glass ponds, with leaves on the surface, leaves floating down, leaves soft-edged in the still dust-cloud mud at the bottom.  The leaves on the pavement were from an elm tree, brown and soft-edged if they’d fallen a while ago, brown and crisp-edged if they fell after the rain, perhaps, shades of yellow to brown, bright yellow for the ones that fell and suddenly had been there forever.

Then, walking on in an affect of noticing, all I could think was that the leaves were falling below me as well as above, that I was walking on water.

 

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