tiny cottonwood seeds,
winging on goose down,
sail the spring air on
a hope or a dream
sail the westerly wind,
ride a purposeful breeze,
like a flock of birds
all of one mind
stopped by an obstacle,
a rock or fence post, or
captured by flower petals
in a softer landfall
grains in gossamer wings
put down roots, send up
a shoot, unfold whole
leaves, the start of a tree
first published in Time of Singing
also published in Illinois State Poetry Society
©2013 Bonnie Manion