Today it is warm and sunny. Lovely and gorgeous to the senses. A shimmering green carpet of grass has been unrolled from my patio to where the trees begin below. The trees fill the valley like mounds of lush green pompoms all the way across the floor to the blue mountains which trap them in and keep them from spreading any further. They would, you know. Like the little puffs from a cottonwood in wet spring; roll on the air, float up and out, tickling noses as they pass, onward and outward to that place where they can settle. Sink into the loamy earth. Become something bigger. Become more. Become.
I imagine that is me now. A fuzzy, fragile cottonwood seed floating at the whim of the wind, aiming with no rudder. Hoping my progress on the current will be enough to get me to where I want to go. To bring me to that perfect place of protection where I can make my stand. Where I will reach the deep blue of the sky. Hold it in my hand.
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