Poised on the precipice of adventure,
patient oleander seeds in silky parachutes
cling to rims of open pods
waiting for wind to carry them away.
There’s no scheduled departure time.
No planned announcement.
No way of knowing when takeoff will be.
You know that place, dangling
just beyond all you’ve known,
waiting for a wind-sung message
or invisible force to direct your next move.
Eventually a strong breeze comes
that knows your name,
carries you to your next destination.
If you trust the mystery of wind
more than the safety of the pod.