Cottonwood Fluff
Virginia Salter

Cottonwood fluff
snowin’ in my face
rolling down the road
an alarmin’ pace

If it weren’t spring
and the air so warm
I’d be ‘spectin’ a snowman
hangin’ on my arm

Sputterin’, blowin’
fannin’ away
spittin’ and wincin’
that cotton at bay

People drivin’ past
surely wonderin’ ‘bout me
if I’m swattin’ at flies
or swingin’ at a flea

Yet, I keep on a walkin’
toward the goal of my aim
the wind and the cotton wood
never to tame.

©April  22, 2000