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.
(November 13, 2016)
