Maybe, Just Maybe
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
One line stumbles over into another,
and then that line into another, until maybe,
just maybe, a road appears,
or a river, and you go somewhere
with someone you do not know,
pointing out land marks, and local fauna,
stopping now and then, to look up
at the hawk gliding without effort,
silent as a thought.
Up ahead gradually arrives,
and you notice your shadows
have moved from in front of you
to behind you, until, maybe,
just maybe, the road rises,
and the beginning begins.