Borne on the Wind
by Cathy Hollister

In the desert they’re called dust devils
little tornadoes skittering over the sand
gathering Snickers wrappers and other bits
of carelessness
dropped with no regard to want or waste
like the tears from a lost child
like the groans of an abused dog
like the wails from the coyote
whose voice on the night wind reminds
us we are free to float
on the breeze that blew in from the bay
with no origin or destination
but carry the white dandelion seeds that defy gravity
and scatter like the blessings of the Holy Spirit
who breathes life to us all



 

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