A puff of cottonwood floats by,
A tiny cloud within my reach.
Soft and cozy white it drifts by,
Casts a passing, tiny shadow,
Floating, fleeting shadow.
We puff shadow as we pass through life,
Offering our selves of tiny white clouds
to others, while
Our shadows, too, float by.
The two are one,
I’m grateful for both.
(Today's tidbit - an Irish blessing to chuckle by -
As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point in the wrong direction!)