knot another

One day you wake up and there is a knot in your chest. The binding has been a quiet act, the ends of the rope pulled by those you love and the fallen emotions that breathe wordless doubts into your wide-open ears. You walk with the knot and eat with the knot and smile with the knot and weep with the knot... I stepped outside this morning to a warm day. Our Bradford Pear tree is the most magnificent tree I've seen. It has always been there, but not so radiant. I've done my share of chop-shop pruning, hoping it would survive my meager manicures. It survived. Spring has brought thousands of soft jeweled petals that rain down in sighs - drifting with the caress of a breeze to rest upon the grass, the flowering shrubs, the sidewalk, the beaten asphalt of the street, the fading blue paint of the Subaru, my stubbly head. The grace of God perfumes the air with not too sweet an aroma, not too contrived a color, not always falling on our questions or our designs, but always drifts to the low spot, to upset the black water rippling in the gutter.