Some days the cards start
to fall into place, each move
opening-up another, like
sorting cattle from your desk
without help—except cattle
have sense to read your mind,
wait their turn in an order
you might not understand
about yourself, as it becomes
a dance on an invisible plane
only approached with time.
Some days the deck is stacked.
But religious or suspicious,
we begin to believe
in something we cannot see.
Best make friends with it.
for Zach
drycrikjournal 