What is this ground I walk?
What are these stones that inhabit the space I trudge?
So oddly shaped and wrongly in the way at so many right spots.
They trip me up and ask my feet to stumble.
When a trip threatens to become a fall, I stop to look back at what should have fell me.
And wonder why it didn’t.
Isn’t that just life though?
The audacity of it.
– The Nashville Wife