by zyxonian

They lofted down to the street, those drowsy fairies, 

those forgotten dandelion wishes,


those little tufts of duck down

spewing from children’s pillow fights,


like baffled, glass honeybees

pollinating invisible flowers,


or powdered sugar wafting

from a confectioner’s kitchen –


like wads of cotton drifting from the seamstress’ table

as she sews her quilt with love.