But Long Enough
by Cheryl Miller

You cannot hold the wind for long
but long enough
if you are April’s shower
spattering scents of petrichor
before
rising into rainbows
or if you are July’s
dandelion
preparing to shoot
parachutes of silky seeds
from your exhausted nubby nest
or if you are October’s leaf,
free at last from summer’s heat,
cartwheeling down dusty streets
or if you are December’s snow,
bored with the pretty
of peace on bare branches,
impatient to sculpt
your own wild creations.



 

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