Somewhere Between a Fallen Pine Cone and Cherry Blossom

I started out 

a pine cone 

hanging from

a tree. 

Cold 

wind floating

between my 

shingled

pine cone 

scales.

Repeating 

words of 

contentment

was my

mantra. 

The ice would frost

over me 

making me feel

safe.

At

least I thought 

it was. 

I would eventually

fall into 

a thousand cradling

pine needles.

Looking up 

to see the 

cherry blossom 

blooming.

Pink blooms

of cotton 

delicate silk

drifted down

effortlessly.

Landing on 

the pavement

in the 

spotlight 

of warm embracing

sunlight. 

I realized 

I am somewhere 

between a fallen 

pine cone and 

a cherry blossom 

and I need 

more.