The wind rips through the trees

Like pages from a book

It sways from one direction to another

There is no planned agenda at all

Never knows where to go next

Where does one go next?

There is no precise plan

But whatever one chooses

Is there a correct and incorrect path?

What if both paths appear welcoming?

Wyoming wind chooses both directions…

But if this is not possible, what then?

If only life was easy like the wind

Rather, Seclusion is so inviting

Escaping from everything

Residing alongside my laptop