Like a bowl of seeds
on the counter’s edge
precariously balanced:
the words I need,
green and fresh
for the paean planting
await me.
Wobble-legged,
I try to keep it steady
but it is too late,
it is already overthunk
and with the slightest quake
slips, falls, explodes
across clean, white,
patterned linoleum
just a hair out of my panicked grasp.