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.