Plastic Bag

quietly somersaulting in the cool night air
bathed in the orange glow of the streetlight
twirling, whirling, end over end
down, down the empty street
gently floating high in the breeze
falling down, but not stopping
just ever floating, so simple
a careless bag in the breeze
swept in the wind
just the simple dance
of few steps
yet infinitely complex
and unrehearsed
to tumble down the road
carried by the wind
is that not all our fate
swept along on the winds of fate
arent we all akin
to that simple
plastic bag