LEAF

On a wooded path
late summer's
first fallen leaves
softly lay;
and careful was I
upon on them
not to tread.

My gaze found one
far fairer than the rest
in a hollow, wet
with tears
from the morning's rain.
Stooping, I took it,
no longer green with youth,
yet glowing;
glorious
in fall's golden palette.

Separated
too early perhaps
from the branch where
at its beginning
it nourished another;
now in peril
of feet less careful
and the parching sun
having their way.

So fair it was
that for the brief moment
it lay in my hands
an unremarkable day
became remarkable;
I took it to my breast
and felt the warmth
of its tears.

But soon I knew,
and all too soon,
and how I knew I could not tell
the leaf belonged
not to me
but to my path.
So stooping once more
silently
I returned it
safely
to higher ground.
Where another more like it,
or, more to its liking,
would one day find.

My heart,
that place so estranged from reason
but ever full,
was silent.
Reason compelled
no word 
or plea.

Of such expressions
the leaf knew 
little,
and cared
less.

The path and woods
bade me 
continue.

selection sunday has finally delivered its crop of 65 teams - fully vested with technicolored sugar-plum dreams. 48 will be gone in a week - no doubt some of the better ones. the most exciting part of march madness is seeing a 12 or 13 seed get to the sweet sixteen. and listening to the 4 and 5 seeds explain why they didn't. last year, one got to the final four.

the weekend was a blur of hdtv images and web stats: my preparations for filling out a perfect bracket. so far, in my accumulated wisdom, all 1 and 2 seeds will survive the week. i have some preferences, elsewhere, but ... that's the beauty of this thing: you really just have to watch the games. anything can happen.

beyond the competitive aspect, there's another reason I love mm: the refreshing, utterly complete absense of ego. most of the seniors will return to classes, graduate and do something else with the rest of their lives. for the nonce though, and before a staggering audience, they have their 15 minutes. it satisfies them, and it delights us. no contracts, no endorsements, just play your heart out.

the best reality show you could ever find -- march on!

novabona: outside, the cold sustains a miniature bobsled run, two hundred feet long, gently meandering among the buildings. kids old and young broadcast cries of amusement park laughter. a currier and ives painting is framed by my bedroom window.

and memories return of mn winters back in the day.

somewhere between super sunday and march madness lies the month of february. whoopee. groundhogs, lovers and presidents aside, it's a pretty useless month. after an incredibly warm ny winter start, february came a-calling with subfreezing temps nonstop.

mind you, i grew up in the frosty reaches of mn, so i feel sheepish puling over positive thermometer readings. but with time i've become acclimated to season long daily thaws. not this month.

february is to winter what august is to summer. so if winter has dog days, these are they. holidays are a dim memory, and sports tickers travail with numbing nothingness waiting for march's marvelous college hoops. it can't come too soon.

meantime, a blog is born. i promise good news [nova bona] for each post.

novabona: 40 degrees is forecast for mid next week.