LatinosUSA

Crossing the starting line with tentative steps,

she noted the others. Running hard.

Running with purpose toward the distance.

Her pace gained a rhythm over the hours,

days, and years, but she never did pick up steam.

Not like those around her.

Often, she meandered toward the footpath

no one else noticed or even bypassed with

slight scorn. Yet, somehow, having no concrete

place to end, no ribbon to break through calling

to her, she wound up off course. Often.

Yet, these hidden byways somehow connected to

one another and eventually she found herself

quite a way past the finish line. While others lay down

gasping for breath, battered by the fight to be first, or

even worse, dead, she continued her way not with

tentative steps this time, but with a slight spring in

them heading nowhere in particular.

Simply enjoying the views.

Air (Haiku)

Frigid air surrounds

Our house; inside all is warm.

Planets spin and spin.