Looking Down

I look down as I walk.

I am careful with my steps.

I see beauty here.

Dead leaves hug the stones along one path and it looks like a pretty puzzle. Others are gathered together like friends looking through a window on a chilly day. I love their many colours.

The frost paints some leaves with polka dots that look more like tiny stars. I stop to take in the beauty.

Black berries mingle with pine needles to form a tapestry on the cold cement. And man reveals his unintended artistry in his neon markings along my route.

Hydrangeas that once puffed up with pride in their fluffy, pink finery now present a more stoic beauty in their aged state.

A dash of blue and yellow on an ordinary hydrant brightens the brown landscape.

Mums hang on to their own faded beauty like old film stars gathering for a gala.

The intricacy of the pine cone! No wonder so many people decorate their home with these lovely seed pods. So many trees shedding their cones and leaves, each tree finally revealing their real selves. They reach their arms up into the sky. They are unabashed at their nakedness and know no shame. They say, “I am beautiful”, and they are.