Schadenfreude

     

To feel envy is human, to savor schadenfreude is diabolic. - Arthur Schopenhauer

The ladder caught my eye first,

leaning careless on an apple limb

old enough

to have its own opinions.

Morning had just opened its quiet eye.

Grass was still remembering dew,

and the crows were holding a loud meeting

in the crooked arms of the trees.

I was walking slow,

the way you do

when the day hasn’t asked much of you yet,

when I saw Tom

halfway up the rungs,

talking large to the empty morning

about how some men are built

for higher branches than others.

The apples didn’t argue.

The wind slipped once through the leaves

like a quiet laugh

moving through the orchard.

Then...

a small crack.

Not thunder.

Not drama.

Just the quiet truth

of wood growing tired

of holding more

than it promised.

Down came the ladder.

Down came Tom -

boots first, pride next,

dust jumping up

to greet him.

For a moment

the whole orchard held still.

Now I’ll say this plain:

I did help him up.

Brushed the dirt from his coat.

Asked if anything felt broken.

But before that kindness arrived

there was a small spark of warmth

in the corners of my chest...

not cruel,

not even unkind,

just something human

lifting like a bird from the grass

when a loud man discovers

what the ground already knew.

Because the earth

listens patiently

to all our tall talk -

and sometimes,

quiet as morning -

it answers

by letting the ground

have the last word.

GBS jr

2011