Ponder I, alone: “What brought me here?”
The wind says nothing.
“What force?” cry I.
Nothing, again.
“God?” I wait for any answer.
Nothing comes.
“Nothing, then,” ponder I, alone. No fate steered my course. I chose this path.
I turn away to family dinner. How I despise political turkey.
Andrew is an unpublished fiction writer in the Washington area. In his spare time he enjoys pens, pads, word processors and pudding.