Cottonwood Drift

Drifting down, cottonwood fuzz

Gathering into snowbanks of fluff

Whirled into the corner of the garage

Entangled with leaf debris, the stray stone

Wooly mounds turn summer into winter.

 

Drifting down on the back deck, bubbles

Reflecting the sun, casting prisms

My grandson stands in the midst

Fluff, drift, colored bubbles, baubles

Gifts from the sky, impossible to hold.