Cancer/writing Journal #81

 


              Charlie Schaefer

              July, 2022


             Peak Cottonwood Seed


            They scurry as on an urgent errand

            and then, an aimless meander.

            Lazy and sedate but then a wind gust 

            and it’s disruption like a puppy 

            scattering a flock of chickens.

            Panicked and disorganized.


           Now kids released on a playground,

           now a deliberate march,

           now a mob, if guided, it’s by a force

           too complex to be discerned.


           One “... wandered lonely as a cloud

           that floats on high o'er vales and hills.”


           I followed a path 

           by a grove of cottonwoods

           at peak cottonwood seed.

           I was in the company of thousands.

           Was I intruding?  Was I welcomed?

           Maybe both.  There’s no telling.


          This much I know:  all sorts of gaiety

          for this poet in such a jocund company.



























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elling.

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