In the cotton patchwork of the sky,
the edges of one square begin to unravel.
The square comes loose and
(floating, dancing)
falls to the ground.

It twitches its nose,
pads slowly around a tree,
gently bats a swaying,
tantalizing flower
with a soft paw.

A wind picks it up
and flings it in a circle.
It finds its wings
and flaps them,
slowly folding,
unfolding.

Rain is misting
from the clouds,
it beads up
and drops

with the rest.
It lands on a leaf
in a tree and
shimmers there

until morning.
Evaporating,
it blooms
and smiles
at the sun.

It winks at me,
I reach up,
pluck it,
bite into its
sweet flesh.

It seeps
into
me.