on a walk down the river
midst the cross creek amongst
the tangled webs of overgrowth
there by the brook trickling
the willows leaves waving
the brambles grabbing
the soft sound of water
rambling
to a destiny
I heard a song one day
barefoot and young and indisposed
to elders or society
influences
and thought it magical
and beauty
and heard the grateful grins
of serendipity
I think