Not According to Plan
When I drop my glasses
in the airport and they
are crushed in the walkway
between terminals, I get to
meet the three kind souls
who help me on my way.
Then I hear you crying
after everyone has left
and bring you water.
Ever since the lock on
my door broke, I have
more visitors.
Now the road I always
take is detoured, which
I curse until I see the
heron glide across the
small pond I didn’t
know was there.