Some awake and find themselves afloat and safe
upon a shred of bark that offers peace and warmth,
with scant control and captive – yet with hope.
Awakes another on a massive bough and glides
as spoons of silver spin and gives an inside track –
at river’s turn – in blind delight may live.
Another struggles with no bough, nor bark, nor silver
spoons nor any nod – that carries an advantage,
scant room to err, must writhe and each breathe savor.
To those of us upon at least a shred of bark
awakes – as – we learn our random start – and fate
. . . humbly concede the favor.
(The Random Poet:02062018
www.therandompoet.com)