This poem is for my husband … Radames. He often says the title as we walk this journey of life together watching nature unfold and observing the world around us. We try to control the world around us, but in truth, no matter how many precautions we take, there is always the flying fickle finger of fate. The key is to appreciate the day and burn endlessly a vision of hope.
The flying fickle finger of fate
One cell a way from cancer
One second away from a car crash
One twist away from a broken bone
One inch away from a sociopath
One email away from a terrorist
One background check away from a shooter
One blueberry away from healing
One cellphone away from distraction
One deliberate step away from a fall
One question away from insanity
One update away from chaos
One law away from a bullet.
Categories: 20 years on a farm