Pavements and Palm Trees in the Sky

(I figured it would happen again.  Pretty much like clock work.  It is at this time of the year I can do nothing but wrestle with my adversary.)

I could see nothing but the silhouettes of palm trees in the sky.  I fought the urge say out loud how beautiful it was.  Of course, I lost and whispered "It's beautiful, God."  In my own way I thanked God for it.  I always knew He was the one who painted it.  I wondered if there will ever be sunsets like the ones on the West Coast.  Does God paint in New York, too?

(It was my adversary who told me to put my camera away so it wouldn't get stolen.  If I would have kept it hidden away, no one would be able to see the beauty I had seen).


The air moved around me and through me.  It was going to be a cold night.  I wanted to feel cool air.  I wanted to be prepared.  If God takes me East, I want to be ready.  No bone chill would keep me from a dream.  But was the dream mine, or His?

(I had to be selfish.  It was my time to grow.  I should think of no one but myself.  It's my life and no one will keep me from living it.)

There are no palm trees there.  They don't float in the sky.  What type of trees flow through the sky in the East?  Red trees, orange trees, green and yellow trees.  Their leaves drop down on pavements with colors not found where the palm trees grow.

(What am I doing? Everyone is staring. Stop snapping away you idiot.  The world isn't yours to capture.)

I am either extremely full of myself or extremely self-conscious.  I would like to think I am full myself because I have no desire to be self-concious.





(Dear Adversary,

I am sorry you keep losing.  Maybe next year we will meet again, between the Hudson and East Rivers.

Truly Yours)