Dead end. That is what the sign said.
Funny how long I’ve believed I could only walk on the road.
It was the deer who showed me how to leap the fence,
how to circle the sign in irregular orbits.
There was no end to the number of paths I might choose.
I was clumsy at first, unversed in this new navigation—
the earth so soft I easily lost my balance.
It was the breath that taught me to pour my weight
first into one foot, then into the other.
My soles relearned how to meet the ground.
It was the clouds that showed me how to let myself
be orchestrated by wind, spiraling like a bird,
as if stirred by some great hand.
Ever since I began circling, I’ve come to see that dead ends
as invitations.