cottonwoods

The long days are approaching

With their close humidity.

Winter gets just one more chance

From this mischievous tree.

The cottonwood sends white puffs

Out into the greening world,

With snow banks on the sidewalk

And around the street lights curled.

Would that I were young enough,

Or old enough, to carry

Snowballs made of summer's fluff

To throw at folk unwary!

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