Generation Games

They play; catching eachother up,
And rolling around,
Spinning and twisting,
As if in a dance,
Then coming to rest,
Catching back breath.

Then up once again,
Dancing and kicking,
In flurries of energy,
Soaring and swooping.
Sometimes together
And sometimes apart.

The wind blows again,
And the next batch takes off,
Breaking free from their stems.
Like tiny white parachutes
Carrying a cargo,
Held on the bottom: a seed.

The ‘dandelion puffs’
Float in the air,
Drifting or dancing
At the whim of the wind,
Carried away to heaven knows where -
The founders of the next generation.