I stepped upon a stair at the back of our house and felt the stair bend beneath my weight and felt the stair answer my weight with its solid resistance of wood and stone. I stepped upon a rock in a dry riverbed and felt the rock rock on the rock beneath it and felt the rock turn under my ankle as a shovel is turned to spill sand. I stepped upon an elevator floor going down from the tenth, jumped and felt the floor fall farther than from a leap and felt the floor rise quickly to me stopping to take passengers on the ninth. I stepped upon a pear fallen in the orchard and felt the pear spread its ripened fruit and felt the pear seep through the seams of my shoes. I stepped upon a train for Montreal, walked down the aisle and felt the train accelerate while I remained behind, walked up the aisle and felt the train push me to my meeting ahead of schedule. I stepped upon a root of an ash in bloom and felt the root crack under my foot and felt the root anchored in earth, limb of a tree the wind could not move easily. I danced upon my father's ashes.Stephen Brockwell