A Poem from May

 

 

Drift Seeds

　

At a stoplight entering downtown

on a late afternoon in May

I spot downy drift seeds floating from the sky.

　

At this intersection

old majestic trees give way

to stone, steel, and brick.

　

I do not know the origin of these fluffy orbs of life

or even what they will grow to be.

I only know they cause me to pause and wonder.

　

Do the other passengers and drivers and walkers

see with the same eyes and heart?

Will the stoplight camera on the corner

capture this unfolding of life?

　

All around, so much that we take for granted.

Life continues to open and close as a breath,

indifferent to the pavement or time or passerby.