the maple seed
There might be any number of
small universes out there, long
and turning arm in arm with ours,
the way a maple seed when caught
on spider thread will take all day
to fall and not stop spinning. Here
might be a lesson. Not much one
for spinning, still I fall along
a tender thread of gravity
and every day turn closer in
toward another universe,
each moment an eternity.
But I will settle to the ground
eventually, and there beside
the wind-spread maple seed
will set myself to growing.