When a petal softly falls
into a mirroring river
it flats gently under branches and over rocks
gliding ever onward

where goes this petal?
what does it see?

Does it notice the children who pick wildflowers
and twine them into garlands of spring
Does it notice the lovers
who smile with their eyes,
a honeymoon's bliss
Does it notice the widow
who scrapes her porch
the broomstick's thistles scraping the wood
Does it notice the garden of stones
of people remembered only by name
now forgotten

No, the petal only soldiers on
unaware of the people around it
for what is one petal, drifting in a stream?