As I strolled through the gardens this morning,
greeting the inhabitants, admiring their lush greens
and fine forms, I found myself pulling dried leaves
blown from the hillside by the night’s strong breeze,
trapping them in the garden’s greenery where, to my eye,
they marred the scene, looking quite out of place.
It was almost an unconscious motion, a tidying up
that seems to be second nature to me now.
One crumpled leaf, just above eye level, jolted me
awake. This was no leaf. This was cool leather
wiggling in my hand. Startled by its motion,
I flung it down, where it landed on the lily leaves
and let me study its decorated wings. Later I learned
it ‘s called a “blinded sphinx moth.” Some gifts come
with such special names and colors, and every one
is a delight and a surprise.