Dropped and broke that jar of coffee, right after helping myself to what was needed for this morning’s cup. Found myself standing with naked feet, upon an island of shattered glass. It’s a good thing I have long hands. It’s a bit of a stretch to get to that broom inside that cupboard without shifting my legs. But I have it now. I sweep around my feet, claiming slowly all that floor, from shards of glass. When I’m done, there’s nothing to show, for what’s happened here. There’s no story, unless you listen to the lonesome lid, of the shattered jar.