Rose in Winter

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Walking to a meditation service today, I happened to look down at my feet to see that they were submerged in a sea of golden-yellow ginkgo biloba leaves. It finally got cold, you see, and to make up for lost time in an unusually warm fall, the leaves suddenly let loose all at once. I looked up and realized that leaves were falling all around me, yellow, brown, rust, brilliant scarlet and orange. I looked back down at the golden ginkgo leaves and a subtle leafy smell wafted up. I suddenly wanted to roll around in the leaves, sniff them, eat them like my dog would do. Being a fairly civilized human however, I did not do this. I thought instead about the memory-enhancing properties of ginkgo tea and how perhaps I should pick some up.

Turning my focus from the yellow leaves, I decided to pick myself a bouquet of fall leaves and put them in my pocket, perhaps to adorn my shelves with until they dry up and become a mess to clean. In the end, I made a wish on each leave in the bouquet and threw them to the wind. I figured this would work for making wishes come true if leaves are the eye lashes of trees. We shall see.

A block away from my destination, I realized I was freezing cold and knew in my bones that winter was starting. I stopped to admire a garden I like to see when I pass by that way. The garden was covered in a blanket of brilliant leaves. No flowers or vegetables were left, save for one perfect, blood-red rose on a dark green rosebush. As I looked more closely I realized there were one or two small blemishes on the rose foretelling that it would fade soon. This made it all the more perfect to me. I stood there looking for a metaphor for the rose…”that rose is as red as a… a….rose”, was the best I could come up with, because the rose was so perfectly rose like it defied comparison.

By the time I reached my destination I felt like I had already been meditating for an hour.