The cottonwood blossoms and casts its blooms
floating the Missouri one sunny afternoon.
A summer snow, the blooms they squall,
finding their way, the wind, abetting withdraw.
They know no course, chance the only
companion on this journey.
Much as it was when I settled down,
casting my lot to this bottom ground.
Not aware I was sowing a seed of destiny,
chance—forlorn to me;
settling instead, fear won out.
I long for chance, for destiny, to arrive,
to grab my hand and turn the tide.
Victim to my chosen circumstance,
but those days never came to last.
Still I dream of you only,
an end all too early;
was it all for naught?
Fearing loss defeated chance,
alone I watch destiny dance;
in the summer snow above the Missouri.
*Originally published in the February/March 2017 issue of Literary Arts Review magazine.