I hold the tension between beauty and terror-
the feeling that I am going to fall over the edge into the pit,
the fear that I want to jump from the ledge.
(And what of the brokenness of that crack?
Will my foundation hold?)
And then I spy
the exquisite beauty that is in fallen leaves
and dropping acorns of fall,
and oh, the rusty color of the saw's biting edge.
(Yes, I must keep going.
No feeling is final.)
(My contribution to Gallery 29 of the 52 Photos Project, "Holding")