Small Commendations

Like daisy petals plucked by schoolgirls,
Afloat on indifferent whirls of air,
They amount to scarcely a snowflake scatter
That litters the ego's weedy lea.
Mayfly compliments: translucent, ephemeral,
Unencumbering bits of fluff
That catch on arm hairs for a second
Then lift away and dissolve like smoke.
Little puffs of pleasure, itty inconsequentials,
More gratifying than buckets of laud
Slapped down on a desk, an onerous yoke
One can never hope to affirm with finesse.