Young and fleet of foot
I often crashed my steps along the promenade
Shoulders back, face held high into prevailing winds
Mid-run, one day a ladybird landed on my hand
I smiled
Then laughed, unplanned
Pace maintained, chest puffed with joy and pride and wonder
My red-and-black passenger gifting a momentary sense of belonging
Before leaping again into the unknown
I returned home to news
Of life stirring small and unseen within
The universe, I thought, had whispered
But fate, I’ve found, is fickle and strange
Things land on me often enough:
Rain, bugs, a pigeon’s well-aimed drop
A brief touch of the universe, or just a lucky breeze?
A gentle nudge, or a cosmic dance?
Maybe a sign, maybe just chance
