Sand in my backpack, shells in my shoes
freedom is easy when I get to choose
where home will be next.
flying on a whim
no plans before or after
a routine-lover’s disaster, my life is a
of last minute decisions and visions,
incisions in the thread of consciousness where I tie in
a divine rhyme
as sun-drinking trees whip this train window
I remember home, and her seasons.
Canada, the snow
A linear world so structured
I’m reluctant to attempt to squeeze my intergalactic mind,
this wandering worldLife
the hum of my inner Adventure Machine!
money talks but I can’t hear it,
the things I value are experiences
music gratitude synchronicity connection
my barefoot callouses complement
this endless summer complexion and
I don’t need anything else when
my wings are dusted with
my heart’s intentions.