Oh how I love the wind.
The feel of it brushing me around,
hoping, myself not to fall on the ground.
50 feet up in a large oak tree
is the spot in which you will find me.
Not a squirrel nor a leaf,
not a bug but a seed.
Yes, that is me, a seed.
I live high
in the sky.
As Autumn comes knocking on Summer’s door,
telling her she is to be no more,
I break free from the branch and go explore.
Explore the world I’ve never known
and very far I’ve sometimes flown.
Cross the continent here and there,
I make my travels in the air
and though I sit here in this pile,
the wind is blowing all the while
“Off again!” Says the gusty wind to me,
“For next year, you will become a tree!”
Gleefully I rise
for I can see through my own eyes
the perfect place for me to grow
the meadow across the road.
“There I’ll stay,” I say with cheer
“I can live there year after year!”
So there it was I took up root,
and I’ll say this, as the point is not moot,
the seeds on my branches are as adventurous as I,
for they love to travel by wind in the sky.