bike ride

cottonwood fluff

gathers on the pavement.

it settles in whorls,

traces wind eddies


down the block a dog barks

at the last of the day

its owner stares at the sunset

and dreams of past lovers


this is spring around these parts:

half easy, gentle breeze,

half torpor and memory

and a measure of forgetfulness


the rain helps a little

though it’s been sparse this year

cool rain takes away your loss

lets you remember


it’s tricky stuff this cottonwood fluff

clogging up air-conditioners

blocking car radiators

and rolling heavy up on curbs


it makes you think it’s more than air

until you stick your fist in it

and the dog barks and the lover dreams,

and you feel that rain

Published by

Patrick Dobson

Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *