A Small Victory

As I rode to work this morning, the wind was a whisper that warned of waxing intensity. By the time my half day of work had ended, it had made good on its threat and blew with an urgency that mirrored the mall's atmosphere in these final 3 days of compulsory consumption. During much of my ride home, this urgent wind was at my back. Mr. Belvedere was the name of my clipper ship, pavement was my wavy sea, and I captained the rudder with the bending of elbows. In the distance I spied a tree that held big sharp-angled leaves; like those of a maple. One broke free and lifted toward the sky. I decided I would meet it in the air. Perfect timing was essential, the sail-like leaf was unpredictable, and I was still far away. I increased my speed and monitored the course of my target. It blew right, dipped hard, lifted again, blew left, rose higher. I was getting close, but the leaf was falling straight down now. There would be no more lefts or rights. Quick, powerful strokes propelled me to the point of intersection. I was arriving too soon. I sat down, straightened up, glided smoothly. The leaf seemed to pause in front of me, and then it glanced off my chest and fell to the ground.