A Flame Tree's Gift

Although it was a sunny day, I was in a foul mood. I had just received a batch of rejections, and a short story I was sure would win in a contest didn't even get an honorable mention.

To top it off, my pep talk—that rejection was a disagreement over literary taste between the writer and the judges—wasn’t working. Not even the reward I often give myself after writing for a few hours- a low-sugar ice cream sandwich could cheer me up. So I did what I usually do, I went for a walk.

At first, I thought the idea was a disaster. In preparation for the hurricane season, the trees in my neighborhood had been subjected to awful but necessary violence. Leafless and with branches cut close to their trunks, they looked as vulnerable as I felt.

But I kept walking until I reached an open lot where a flame tree was huddled between a mango and a naseberry tree. Sparrows were chirping in the mango tree, and a rooster chased hens across the street. A cardinal in the naseberry tree insisted, “Cheer, cheer, cheer, pretty.” I closed my eyes.

As I stood in silence, something fell on my shirt. When I looked down, a flame tree’s flower—stem and all--had fallen on my folded arms.

Under summer skies

A flame tree sheds her glory

A light in the dark