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