You’re jogging down a beaten path and all seems well.
The grass here has been trod before, bare earth pushes through in patches.
The rhythm of your feet is regular, a beat that’s solid as the ground itself
When suddenly you stumble.  Was that a root, an untied lace?
 

Nothing’s amiss it seems, the shoes fit right
It’s the just the leg itself is weaker.
The knee won’t bend as far without a crack.
The ankle wants to roll a bit like a dog in clover.
 

You straighten up and the world has changed.
The yellow flowers seem blurry
The red wild rose doesn’t call, it closes up.
A silence awaits your step and holds its breath in expectation.
 

And then it happens.  As ever your spirit strong and bold,
The gesture of your strength just fails and you topple, old.