Fateful Coincidences

Who can say how

the palm frond will fall

wrapped delicately around

a stone fountain like

the outstretched arms of

the sistine chapel.

 

Anymore who can say

how the market will turn,

whether Apple will rise

or facebook will fall like

the ebb and flow of

the ocean’s tide.

 

I lay reclined at dusk on

cool park grass

weighing questions while

a crescent moon winks across

a sky of colors and

crickets play a melody of

answers.

 

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