Do not expect a linear path Nor a strictly circular one Though you meander one foot to the next In cyclical, somewhat predictable rhythms. Do not expect clouds to behave, Mountains to hold, Or branches to grow. Do not expect bridges to stand the test of time that even trees cannot. Do not expect your golden shot today to hold your interest next go round the wheel. Do not expect a clear and simple reward. Rather, take what you can, Whenever you can, Drink it in, Make it a part of you For the next go round.
10.8.17 Inktober Prompt: Crooked Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.