Milkweed

A zephyr ruffled through the vale,
disturbing flowers from their sleep;
but, uncaring, it persisted,
sending milkweeds tumbling –
tumbling through the air.
What harvest will reap
that was sown
without much care?
More milkweeds, say I,
pulling pods from my hair.

 

Posted in Response to the Daily Prompt: Dust in the Wind
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