Fate’s Niagara

Traveling

alone

indentured

down the river

of time

 

The current

building

and pushing

me

beyond myself

 

My oars

are traded

for one last

look

around the bend

 

The anchor

buried

in tidal sands

of lost

belief

 

My compass

melted

to pay the

toll

of fates arrival

 

With rudder

steady

 as blind

I rush

— into the falls

 

(Front & Erie Ave’s: August, 2025)

The Myth

You don’t have to buy the land

to own the changing landscape

Whose vista priceless yours inside

to live in mortgage free

 

Or fly a rocket toward the sun

to view each day’s horizon

That comes and goes both East and West

in transitory joy

 

You don’t have to buy a car

to travel to tomorrow

New pathways wait beyond conveyance

old footsteps in the sand


Or buy a boat and sail the seas

to hear the ocean’s roar

The transience of each crashing wave

— a gift unwrapping free

 

(Ronald McDonald House: August, 2025)