The Lightweight’s Fantasy

The kind of settled you’d like
In the end, is to finish
As a lightweight tumbleweed

Caught against a perfect fence—
Picket, not barbed—or stone wall
Under a row of shade trees,

Out of place for tumbleweed,
Sure, but finally secure.
You blew in on such raw wind

It wedged you, permanently,
Until disintegration.
Peacefully watch the seasons.