Tumbleweed (revised)

The tumbleweed skims the surface
wherever the wind propels it.
It scratches the dry earth
and scatters those treasures
as it roams the desert.

He has freedom to roam
the world. The wind is his only map.

Sometimes, the tumbleweed
entangles with twine and performs
a solitary dance to nature.
Rarely is an audience present;
never is the dance appreciated.

He is sensual and abandons
himself to forces greater than himself.

The random path of the weed
is not always without damage.
Sheer abandon among the elements
can shift to a course less common.
Hope has no power.

Loneliness reigns a sharp hand.
A slap can leave a sting.

Man leave his mark behind
in many ways, but the tumbleweed
leaves less discernible traces
for a much longer distance
without a word.

Silence is golden, but companionship
can offer so much more.