No destination in mind, I was free to choose. Flip a coin, left or right, or perhaps bear straight ahead where a
Canopied road beckons, shadow-stippled, playing footsie with the sun. No artist painted this. Slow down,
Patterns shift with the slightest whisper of wind. Blink, and the world has changed already. Dark to light and back
Again. A forest green turtle ventures a crossing. Hurry, little guy, not all who travel here will care if you safely reach your
Destination. He ignores my wave, but soldiers on, tiptoeing persistently across this canopied road. His choice matters, too.