She’s
playing the lotto
again, puffing on
that pipe like peace
is going out of
style.

Indian tribes,
ladies and hippies before
receding hairlines turned
them to businessmen,
knew a thing or two about
connecting the soul,
the spirit energy,
with everything
through
the power
of love.

Standing before the arch
of acceptance, light rays beaming
between sympathy and empathy,
dance around the fire of forgiveness,
discern if it is for herself or others,
she bows her feathered brow
with respect and not a crooked
bone in her body.

Crying as if this state of mind
could never be achieved,
she can’t stop now.
She won’t turn away
or surrender at the next
checkpoint. She’ll roll the
dice and play the game
until they call her number.

—

—

“Triple Leaf” is a poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.