By: James Aitchison

How we long for control,
for ordered lives,
neatly wrapped days,
tidy packages tied with
predictable string.
But I see nothing tidy
in Nature; no straight lines,
nothing the same shape,
the same size; nothing
easy, nothing smooth.
And I love it! The road is
forced to follow the land,
just as life forces us
to follow our true selves.