Floof

Swaying in the breeze, caught in the current.

Adrift on waves of molucules, atoms, flowing, fumbling.

Seeking that moment when the movement is grace.

Catching the clumsy landing and posing for a giggle or a sigh.

Settling in a still moment, hoping for peace.

Until the current comes again, and again, always movement.

It could be a dance, if the steps were known.

It could be a grand performance, of planning and vision.

Yet, it is all unscripted action, reaction.

No plan, but the vaguest of guesses, hoping for the right wave.

If the surf is up today, the wind a whisper,

Perhaps we'll catch the groove, make it through the day unscathed.

If the water is calm underneath, and capped on top,

Perhaps we'll still have a moment to catch our breath, to stop.

On it goes, the ebb and flow.

Where it ends, or if it even does, we're not quite ready to know.