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

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