Two fluffy white seeds clung to each other in the corner of my studio. I picked them up and standing in my doorway, give them flight with my breath.
At this time of year, when everything else seems to be dying, the milkweed is spreading its seed as if it were spring.
These seed pods are so alive, the quiver and shake in the slightest breeze, hanging on till they let go.
Then they float like fluff, like huge flakes of snow, trusting the wind.