Two Trees, Sun

I was driving to an appointment in Muncie, 90 miles away.
I took the two lane highway, rather than the interstate,
      because life goes fast enough already.
Not long into my journey the early morning illumination
      began to turn hazy and lavender and pink in the fields to my left.
“What wonderful colors!” the photographer in me said.
      “And my camera is right here!”
“You have an appointment,” the businessman in me said. “Keep going.”
Several miles down the road the sun added its presence to the scene
      and both the beauty and the colors deepened.
“What a lovely effect with that pink-red ball behind the trees!”
      the savorer in me said.
“Being responsible means being unfailingly on time,”
      the punctilious side of me countered, and I drove on.
Finally someone else joined the conversation: Angela Merici,
      a nun who lived under the same sun in the sixteenth century.
“Do now,” she had been quoted as saying on one of my note cards,
      “do now what you will wish to have done when your moment comes to die.”
The photographer in me listened to her, and stopped the car.
On my deathbed, I’ll know I did the right thing that morning,
      and certain other mornings as well.
I only hope that when my end on earth comes,
      I will have done that right thing often enough.