subtext

Along a path distracted,

possibly the wind, or a bird,

pulls your attention away,

and you stumble on nothing;

as if the ground shifted,

but only beneath your feet,

and only within the moment

a glance requires to be coy.

You find yourself down

and bleeding, a gash

puckers across your face,

your leg twisted, broken.

Paying attention is difficult,

but imperative, or we all fall.