A Beautiful Door

We’ve had a run the last few months
Where every time Phil uses a tool,
Something breaks.

We had a party planned for today.
Hospitable Phil was whacking weeds
Around the table out back
When he kicked up a small pebble.

It wasn’t until he was finished,
Motor off, that I heard a sound of rain.
Except it wasn’t rain.

The pebble had shattered the glass on
The French door. We watched in amazement
For the next forty-five minutes
As the cracks continued, until the door looked like
Lace.

Several guests exclaimed over the beauty
Of the cracks, and it is true.
The tempered glass broke in a beautiful pattern.

I realize that life is maintenance.
And since the house was built from scratch,
By comparison, to replace a window is minor annoyance
And easily fixed.

So I will enjoy my lace door for now,
And the compliments of artistic friends.

And unlike a baseball player, I will hope
That Phil’s run hits a slump soon. And permanently.