pollen under a scanning electron microscope

There are perhaps more beauties hidden than revealed in this world: The blaze of sun that rises over the edge of sea while we are still wrapped together, our heads just touching, dreaming separate dreams. The five-pointed star inside each apple. The pattern of roots beneath the soil. The fetus sucking her perfect, tiny thumb. Blind fish in the depths, the ultraviolet messages flowers send to bees, all the colors hidden in white, the fossils buried deep in solid rock. The light of newborn stars.

I have often felt--if fleetingly--that the surest way to peace is a closer look. The beauty is there, much of it not hidden at all, merely overlooked. The leaves are all falling now, the hills shifting from gilded to burnished to brown. Cold came in hard last night, frosting the tomatoes that we've been meaning to bring in. I've felt that if I could only slow down enough, the beauty would overwhelm me, would flood me and fill all the cracks and fissures, make me whole. If I could only slow down enough, I would look closely and find myself whole, a bright five-pointed star shining right through me.