Adrift

On a cool early autumn morning

Lay a canoe drifting on a river

It’s single occupant in blissful slumber

Not knowing where the tide would take

Not that it mattered to him

For he had nowhere to go

Neither had any possessions to claim

Except for the little brown canoe

Would it lead him to a grassy knoll

Or an orchard with plenty of fruits

Maybe a place where he could earn

No one could tell, but time and tide alone.