Fate

HAPPINESS!

lain on the front stoop

the hot cement

of the summer morning

ripples its pages

twists its broken binding

singes its worn edges

– the book lies dormant

waiting for

the thud of feet

sweating in too-tight dress shoes

that pinch the sole

starve the gait

and sigh with timid relief

when they slow

to look

at HAPPINESS!

lain on the front stoop

of the cream-colored house

the garden daisies shying

away from the hot cement

the bees humming dumbly

in the summer morning

as a hand reaches down

hesitant but ready

to lift the rippled pages

the twisted binding

the singed pages

before seeing ahead

the bus pulling up

to the curb

doors open

Come on!

and leaving happiness

behind

for Fate.