Remember how we used to criticize the cross of St. Bridgit's?
Blame Christianity in general for its shoddiness? Its slant?
We sat in the park and laughed.
There was a squirrel scrambling up a tree.
Entranced, we watched it circle the trunk, and jump to a wire.
Tippetty tippetty, all across a power line.
Missing a beat, it fell to the ground with a bit of a splat.
I love that you did not laugh. Nor did I.
Neither of us breathed, until it regained itself… and bounded on.
I note that neither you or I have ever laughed at that crooked cross
since that time. Nor have we talked about it. You sip your tea
and I sip my coffee, in the park. We seem to silently agree --
Not everything is perfect. Not anywhere.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --