I fumble over myself again.
It’s an easy thing to do, I suppose,
with ignorance beign such a common drug.
But I would do well to learn long and brazen strides.
I fumble over myself again,
thinking how my failures have amounted to nothing
and my successes even less.
Then I fumble outside,
and the last faint gasp of rainfall taps on my shoulder,
and a young bullfrog leaps over my bare feet,
and I decide that maybe nothing at all
is exactly what one should amount to.