Clink, Clink

Clink, clink.
You’ve lost the knack
of scattering
shards.
Clink, clink.
What’s left you
is the knowing
how to gather
pieces.

Clink, clink,
on the road
strewn
with moments,
snippets,
portions,
fragments,
offcuts,
crumbs and
little rocks —
pebbles.
Clink, clink,
you hear
the sound of your own
footsteps.
Clinging
to them:
clink, clink.