original Web poetry

Spinners

The spinners drift down from the tall Maple tree,
tiny marvels of engineering,
by The Great Engineer,
somewhere in the sky,
or beyond,
tiny transmitters of seeds,
some falling near their parent,
others traveling a long way on the wind,
some will clog the neighbour’s drainpipes,
some will grow into more trees,
and make their own seeds one day,
and some of the seeds will be food for the squirrels;
maybe that’s why the tree made so many.

Copyright 2012, David Sloma

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