HOW THEY FALL


Some fall straight
as a plumb line,
others float like
feathers, meander
in unseen mazes
down to the ground.

A few fall alone,
a white-silkened
chute swaying
in the sky, others
flow like tourists
in museums.

They spin
like elfin pinwheels
clockwise or
counter depending
on prevailing
currents of wind.

Two are waltzing
like angels, their
wings almost
touching,
borne aloft on
Danubes of air.

And one lands
softly in my
palm, pink,
a snow princess—
this five-petalled
plum blossom
plum


Peter Y. Chou, Palo Alto, 3-31-92


Peter Y. Chou— from Snow We Might See in the Desert:
California Poets in the Schools 1992 Statewide Poetry Anthology
&
Best of Fresh Hot Bread II (10-year Waverley Writers' Anthology 1984-1994)

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