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Habits

A seed carried by the wind,
       its fluffy ends like
       a ball of fuzz,
       lands on the deck.
It tilts to one side and the other
       with each little puff of wind,
       as if trying to plant itself,
       not noticing the lack of fertile soil
       on this hard wood deck.
Out of compassion, I picked it up
       and blew it off the deck into the wind
       towards the garden,
       then watched as it floated away, and landed again,
       on another part of the deck.
Habits are hard to break.

 
 

 

 


More Poetry:

Poetry Home Page

Aging Gracefully
Intoxication
To You
Gemini Moon
Summer Contentment
Aging
My Cat
Progress of Love
Habits
Simple Living
Tryst
Partings
Stillness
I weep
Meditation 1
Sorcerer's Apprentice
Meditation 2
The Truth in a Tree
Nataraj in Candlelight

 

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