"An Idea"

I am a helicopter from the highest branches of a maple

My ideas are swirling in my head
	They fly sporadically through the crisp air
Freely-
Dropping
	Rolling
		Separating

 Where will they finally land?
	Into the river flowing downstream?
	Into a clump of grass swaying quietly in the breeze?
What if they just sink,
	and fall back towards the base of the tree?

Perhaps, 
the journey ends with 
	a foot,
	a crinkling sound,
	and a busy thinker?
	Or
maybe, just maybe
		it could settle in between the purple feathers
				of a green trimmed hat,
			   that sits atop a bright-eyed lady
					who hums 
				an amusing tune to herself
			as she takes a walk on a lovely sunny day.