Oh, to be a dandelion seed head –
a fragile globe of downy perfection,
prone to getting
carried
away
Instead, I am painstakingly
composed of tensile steel,
yet extraordinarily flexible –
a spider’s web –
built to withstand torrents of
despair,
a deluge of
disappointment
I am woman, everyone’s mother,
the hub of the wheel, the great
connector, communicator,
peacemaker
But just once, I’d like to ride the
updraft of a steady wind catching
my gossamer wings; I’d like to be
spirited away, in bits and pieces,
riding gales, spinning in cyclones,
drifting, dancing, and eventually
landing…in any assortment of
mundane or exotic
locales, maybe to
take root there,
maybe
not.
