My granddaughter, Jessica,
now already seven,
took me out for a walk in the park.
Leaves were loudly crunching,
under our feet
that awesome autumn day.

"Grandma," she exclaimed
with a sudden joggle in her walk.
"Look! Those leaves up there,
they are doing somersaults!"
(She takes ballet lessons).

I was astounded.
Truly, the leaves, carried by the
symphony of the wind
were gracefully spinning over,
prancing, dancing
to cheer the rusty sky.

Then, mischievously,
she ran to pick the bolder ones,
the ones that reached
the summit front row first.
(She has a competitive edge).

She held the prized ones,
but then stopped, looked behind,
sighed, and tenderly
walked back
to gather the small ones,
the ones
still clinging to the soaked grass.
(She has a compassionate heart).

After contemplating
her prized possessions
she gave me a wicked twinkle
the one that says "Wait for more."

As if holding a deck of cards
under my bewildered eyes,
Her tiny fingers
became sculptors
of a new unseen marvel.

She found a place of grace
for each leaf she gathered
and shaped them all
into a unique bouquet
made of falling leaves.

I might have walked
one hundred miles
over thousands of falling leaves
but I never experienced
the look-beyond sparkle
the magic of seeing the unseen,
the awe of a new discovery,

than that day
while walking
with Jessica,
now
already
seven.
(She is a wonder).