A Chance

 

Today I found a severed stem

of milkweed, with each pod ajar –

so, like a wand, I waved it high

to help the tufted seeds fly far.

And many sailed into the sky,

but others tangled in small trees,

and so I went to pluck them there

and fling them out onto the breeze.

Were I a seed snagged on a bough,

I'd want someone to set me free,

and have a chance to reach the earth

to thrive where I am meant to be.

November 2020

(from the book Longing For The Light by Doris Potter)

© Doris Potter

 

Transformation

A garden, abandoned and wild –

liberated from man's designs –

basks in each summer day.

Then soon arrives November's chill –

and bitter winds and evening frost

mean winter's on the way.

The goldenrod – its treasure spent

in wild and wanton revelries –

retires in shades of buff.

The aster drops its purple fringe –

its yellow center detonates

into a soft, beige puff.

The milkweed's blushing, perfumed blooms

give way to tasseled seeds that sail

above a pale tableau.

Autumnal hues once warm and strong,

fade slowly from the cooling scene,

soon to be blanched by snow.

November 2020

(from the book Longing For The Light by Doris Potter)

© Doris Potter