By Madhur Anand

Buddha in the Foreground

Might one in a hundred seeds
parachuting from the head of
white-haired dandelion
get distracted by a child's whistle?

Miss the far-fetched promises
of wilder wind
and stranger grasses?

The invisible ant
crawling up my arm
alights the same breezy wish:
to harm less, far-flung.

-from Contemporary Verse 2: Volume 30, Issue 2 (Fall 2007).