The Voice Issue 32: October 2017 - Page 22

22

Today, it snowed milkweed

I crouched in the field

just below the grass line,

the scratchy grass itching my feet,

and then –

I saw it.

The stalk

was just out of arm’s reach

and slowing to the end of its life;

brown pods sprouted off the top,

creating the effect of a miniature corn stalk.

I pulled one from the dying stem

and cradled it gently in my palm.

Then, without pause,

I dug my fingertips

into the heart of the pod,

the soft snow of the seeds

exploding into the slight breeze

and drifting lazily along.

I scooped

the remaining seeds into my hands,

dropping the empty pod to the matted grass

and held them high

like an offering to the wind gods.

They took off,

twirling and dancing in the winds

that twisted my hair

around my face,

tickling my cheeks

and drifting into my eyes.

A picture of you

immediately snapped into my head

as the milkweed birds

took flight into the free air.

You had sat,

I recollected,

on the green plastic swing,

flying high,

as I emptied

the contents of a pod

into the autumn-scented air.

You had laughed

as the snow

of a milkweed seed

drifted past your face,

grabbing at it while you

swung back and forth,

milkweed having the advantage

of a straight path

while you had the forwards and back

motion of a green plastic bird

on chains.

- Love to write, Richmond, VT