The Poetry of Germination

It was an out-of-season snowfall:
A flurry of seeds, whisked by the air,
Sink and bob, as sunfish eggs
Rafting down a spring-thaw rill.

Sub-lime sunlight streams about the seeds,
And channels their sinuous meanderings.
Like the humble land’s supple bough^
To the sky’s sighs and the sea’s pleas.

The easterly ebb of slowly zephyrs
Tickles stems and trickle pad rapids.
As a prowling kingfisher ever yearns
For (up)drafts to rest his rowing wings.

Cumulonimbus plumes drift on the-
Breeze atop the westerly horizon;
Frothing on eddying cirrus wisps,
And stead’ly dousing the rising sun.

To avoid the lightening and thundering rain^
I hurriedly march to my nearby car.
I drive straight home and straight inside
Where I pace along my everyday.

Two days passed ‘til I return to wander.
Walking the water-felled woods, I wonder
Why I wore nice shoes,
And fear their sheen a thing to lose.
Quick to spring the waterlogged trees,
Brainstorming of my weathered boots,
I fail to see, sailing aeronautically,
skimming over hundreds of emerging dandelions.

^lightening(n.)/lightning
^bough/bow