Clover and Grass

Autumn has floated in with the September breeze, settling like a cool crisp blanket over the city.  The sun is hot but is quickly mellowed by the arctic air pouring down.  I wish I brought a sweater to cover my bare arms.  I drop my son off at his first day back at preschool.  It's a new beginning, a new classroom, and new faces.  I have one hour before I can pick him up.  It's just long enough to walk to the thrift store and let a tea cup fumble out of my finger tips and smash brilliantly across the floor.  No one seems to notice except an old chinese man who pauses for only a moment to watch me smile and collect the broken pieces.  I lay the the tea cup in it's new form back on the shelf wondering if this was the cup's true destiny, never to be used as a tea cup again.  I continue past the once useful but now forgotten to pick up my son...

I pack my camera every where I go, searching for a moment of inspiration, a moment of intrigue, even if I am only walking through my neighbourhood where I've walked a million times before.  I doubt  I will see something new.  What could possibly get my attention that hasn't already?  As I near the end of my walk, I notice swaying in the autumn breeze, clover and wild grass so delicate and unconstrained.  This is a moment I want to keep forever.