Each year I am tempted
to write
of the cottonwood snow,
to capture the flight of tufts
of white as they dance
on the air, slaves to the whimsical
twirling of spring winds,
destination determined
only by chance,
to compare the falling fluff
to the flakes swirling in the skies
of a different season,
to make some connection
between the white
show of warmth
and that of winter.
Each year I attempt
to find meaning
in the cottonwood snow.
Awakened Words 
Well, I must admit to MUCH preferring cottonwood snow to the snow that falls in another season. Smiles. I liked the descriptive language you have used in this poem, Mark.
very nicely done..”destination determined / only by chance,”..love the lines
smiles.. i love their weightlessness… and their warm furry dress
I love the lightness of your words here.. Like the cottonwood snow itself.
Never having seen cottonwood, your poem has painted the picture beautifully. When the cherry blossom falls in April,, I experience a similar lightening of spirit.
ah and i in the cherry blossom snow…
of course i am singing “almost home’ by craig morgan
just thinking of cottonwood trees….
Hmmm…it seems it’s only the snow of Oak Pollen in San Antonio that I could write about… LOL. There’s a country song (probably many) that refer to the cottonwood snow and I’m always drawn into daydreaming about it when I hear that song. Your poem has done the same for me. Loved it!!
Beautiful, Mark. I have never heard of cottonwood snow. It cries out for a poem.