“What are those?” I asked Bernadette pointing to the spread of white stuff carpeting the road during our drive from her home to the city. “Oh, those are from the poplar tree,” she replied. “It is such a mess, and it aggravates respiratory diseases and allergies. I would not go near them.”

“Oh, but I think it is pretty! Just look at the road, it is like it’s snowing here,” I let her know my thoughts. “Please stay away from that thing, very dangerous to your health,” Bernadette added. Bernadette who was a Malaysian (now Italian) is very health-conscious. During the seven days stay at her home in Bologna, she ate healthily, she did yoga and walked in the morning. “That’s my priority,” added the 70-year-old woman.

I was inspired by the scene and came up with a short haiku while travelling back home from Bologna via Dubai. It was a few hours spent well while waiting to board the plane.

Anyway, I did some reading on the Internet and came across an Indian folktale about the poplar cotton.

Once upon a time, when all stars should be sleeping during the days, some could not sleep even when they were counting sheep. So they travel to the earth and then drift along just under the surface until they find the roots of the magical poplar tree. They enter the roots and slowly work their way up through the tree. Finally, they come to rest in the small twigs at the end of the branches. Here they wait patiently until they are needed. Then when the ‘Spirit-of-the-night-sky’ decides she needs more beautiful stars to light up the heavens, she calls on the Wind-spirit to help her and he sends wind gusts so hard that the twigs of the cottonwood tree begin to break off. As each twig break off the stars is released and race up to a special place in the sky.

Cheyenne and Arapaho folktales. Ref from Marilyn Kytzli at Clinton Herald.