Many of your sisters
and brothers stay inside the pod
huddled together, the brown
and brittle October hull either
protection or prison.
But you have broken out, pushed
away this dead house. Your arms reach
for the sun and wind. It pulls you
from the others, even as you remain joined
together. And the breeze
flows through you.
You are strong and silken,
fragile and holding sunlight.
The sun-drenched yet chilly
winds blow against you,
and I see a star formed
by the tension between
letting go and hanging on.
Other milkweed floss floats past,
being carried somewhere –
no one can say yet where.
I don’t try to release you
before your time,
but I do wish you
godspeed.
Thanks very much Rhonda!! Perhaps an all-to-obvious alternate title for your beautiful, poignant poem is The RCA. Sad but true. Thankyou again, Rhonda!!
Oh my thank you, Rhonda. Such exquisite pacing, timing, quieting voice, structure as an extension of meaning, authenticity, care.
Yes, than you so much