Do It Again
Do It Again
When I was little I fell down.
We all did that.
When, we were little.
Later, I fell off…
A ladder, a motorcycle, a cart, a bike,
several other motorized vehicles commercially,
and non-commercially constructed by
back yard engineers of extremely high standing…
at least in Our Corner of the World.
The one common denominator was “get up.”
Get back in it, on it, under it, or where ever you ride it…
and do it again… maybe not that way… however.
Today as I went out to pick up something,
I was not motorized, but there were wheels involved.
Get the mail, get a trash can or other thing…
Bring it back to the house.
That I had done…
ten thousand times before.
Instead I found something new…
Flight.
I also found pavement.
Hard and unyielding,
completely rearranging…
parts…
of me…
A bruise, a scrape and I know an angel limped from the scene.
There were at least a dozen white feathers…
Nothing broken, except my pride.
That is okay. It is useless anyway.
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