Listen to poem:
Summer Snow
Cotton flies like summer snow
Through the little city with no one to clothe
Descended from giants whose purpose long forgotten
That even in this fabricated world...
Nothing feels better than cotton
Fluffy clouds carry the tiny seeds
Across the wind with no one in need
The white puffs dance and twist and weave
Like tiny sprites in the summer breeze
Till finally they must hit the ground
Or whatever else happens to be lying around
They line the dirt trails and driveways and streets
Sticking to everything that they meet
They give a soft feel to month of June
But of a light white dusting nothing is immune
I saw my dog salted and thought into what has she gotten?
Then laughed and said "Oh!"
"It's that cotton pickin, frickin cotton!"
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