Random Wordsmith

It rambles.

It rolls.

It changes from a pedigree to a troll.

Never is it about a walk in the woods on a cloudy day.

Never is it lessons from leaving a cake out in the rain.

Creations in the mind…often weary.

Word pies for the leery.

Leaving the creator with no true sense of destiny.

The rations for the irrational…never a luxury.

I assume there are worse things than rolling words up hill and letting them tumble.

Letting them go.

Silly idle hands for hyperactive thoughts…crashing into trees down below.

But I am just a laborer and pushing random words uphill…

And, that is all I’ll ever know.

humility 3