Tomorrow

The September sky is ominously quiet overhead. My body trembles. An earthquake shakes my soul. Jets have crashed; skyscrapers have burned and collapsed; thousands have died. We know not where or when the carnage will end.

I walk barefoot in the grass seeking the top of the hill behind my home. Breathe deeply, I tell myself, keep moving. My feet find the path I have walked a thousand times. How could it look the same today? A small stream sparkles, freshened by recent rains; a maple loses an early leaf. In the distance, hills fade into one another until Mt. Monadnock rises with assurance above them. I lie down, pressing my back into the warm grass. My shaking quiets.  The deep blue sky is empty until pierced by a hawk flying in early migration. There will be a tomorrow.