When will I begin to fall down from the clouds

and roll in with the tide?

Polishing stone and shell with the waves,

a relic one holds close, refurbishes and saves.

I’d like to wrap up the first snowfall, delicate and light, for safekeeping from the rays that bake asphalt wandering feet will fight.

The breeze is as gentle as anything can be,

Pushing grasses and tree fronds to wave in harmony.

Then maybe somewhere there will be a place for me.