On a Spring day in another century,
sitting in the grass outside the library.
She asks if she can read my palm. I hold it out
and watch her face as she talks about
lines braiding and lovers upsetting fate.
There is a trace of fear as she backs away,
no need to pay have a good day.
My hands have brought words and played music
and that is as much fate as I know
especially on a warm Spring day.