Just another summer's day

What could be more pointless

than watching summer clouds

drifting across a summer sky?

Or cottonwood fluff?

A Great Blue Heron

flew in from somewhere,

only to land at the edge of a sandbar

that wasn’t there last month.

Clouds had rained rivers

and flood waters had dropped

countless grains of sand.

And cottonwood trees scatter

cottonwood fluff with

careless abandon.

And how is it that

you coming to mind

makes all of this more dear

than I could possibly say?