Tumbleweed

Tumbling, tumbling --
Incessantly rolling 'cross the prairie.
Gathering cotton lint
And bits of paper,
The tumbleweed
Visits the neighbor
But can't seem to cross the fence
Until a sudden gust
Lifts him high
And he flys through the air.
He soars,
He bounces,
He rolls on and on
Until he lodges
With his buddies in the corner
By the barn
Where the field mice
Will have a field day
Tonight.