Catkins of poplar trees Tom Sharp

Neither a flower nor not a flower; no one cares. They fall all over the yard and lane, wastefully, their pollen everywhere, and make my eyes water. Eyes closed, wind blows across thousands of miles. I dream of lovers until an oriole sings from the trees. I’m not dismayed by the wasted catkins, but someone needs to rake them up. They say if they fall in a pond, they become duckweed. After a rain, they are too heavy to blow away— two parts dust and one part rainwater.

水龙吟·次韵章质夫杨花词 苏轼

似花还似非花，也无人惜从教坠。 抛家傍路，思量却是，无情有思。 萦损柔肠，困酣娇眼，欲开还闭。 梦随风万里，寻郎去处，又还被、莺呼起。 不恨此花飞尽，恨西园、落红难缀。 晓来雨过，遗踪何在？一池萍碎。 春色三分，二分尘土，一分流水。 细看来，不是杨花，点点是离人泪。