All day, I’ve been searching for a slice to share.
My search began as I stood at the kitchen sink this morning,
slicing plump, juicy strawberries to stir into my yogurt.
I thought I’d found one when, walking to my car, I glanced up
and saw flock of birds wheeling and diving, their wings
flecks of gold in the morning sun.
But no. They flew away.
At work, possibilities crossed my path at lightning speed.
Third grade lesson— Edgar Badger’s Balloon Day.
Fourth grade read aloud—Three Good Deeds
Concepts of Print assessment—“Show me the word was.”
On into the afternoon, ideas came and went.
I despaired of ever finding one.
Then, driving home from Open House,
weary from this long day,
I rounded a corner, and there before me
hung the full moon.
Suddenly I saw the ordinary events of my day
as pearls on a string, luminous in the moon’s glow.
I’d been building my slice all day.
I just couldn’t see it until I had the right light.