hiking in the Berkeley hills
a seed crests by my body
white sphere of life
nearly weightless in the wind’s breath
i turn back with an urge to capture it
to understand its beauty
and dissect it with logic
i pause
ashamed
my hands cannot hold
the true beauty of the seed which is
its effortless waltz with gravity
its gentle surrender to the ground beneath
the promise of new life it carries
the first green sprout
the animals that will play
on its gnarled branches
the growth and decay
of a forest
all contained within the soft small shell
of a seed
trailing
in the wind