Alba

The cottonwood was snowing

I laid the back of my head into the grass

I thought grass and I woke up with pollen on my eye

I waited for the wind to come into my hair, lift it like a pile of leaves

I waited for the white blossoms to stop around me

I waited until I heard gravel crackling on the asphalt

Walking back down the road, the shovel I dragged along left a scratch

I felt the trees around me stabbing up reaching up all up

For a second, the sky could be torn from the earth