Grace and Understanding
The pieces lay flat. The puzzle: facts here and there. Eyes fill in blanks like so many zeros and ones.
In comes another voice. In comes a walk outside.
What fit so tightly together in the dusty dark now no longer paves the way. We have to pick over pieces. We would not have noticed had it not rained, and we would not have noticed but for the birds taking baths in the puddles made in gaps. Had we run, we would have flown over it all. Sometimes, we still do.