Clear the Path

Cleared the bottom concrete step. Stepped into the dirt. A rough red brick lay right across my line of march. Half-buried in packed soil, choked with dry grass. Blocked. Good. I dropped my center. Dug heavy boot treads into the gravel. Planted both fists against the coarse masonry and leaned in hard. Gritted my teeth. The dirt cracked around its edge. Shoved through until the brick gave ground, scraping aside and tumbling into the weeds. Path cleared. Nothing stands in my way.