Dandelions
DANDELIONS
My child running through the deep butter meadow,
Young knees yellow with topaz dust. She gazes at all
The smiling saffron rays-of-sun petals.
A field of dandelions’ bright amber glow
Shining in the happy flower of their life,
Their radiant lemon fingers full-spread
To welcome the golden king of heaven.
And in shady spots under trees she picks earlier ones,
Metamorphosed from warm mustard to pale milk -
Puff-balls with furry innards, an imagined skin,
Hollow airy spheres of seeds.
Parachutes white in the wind, they glide and twirl
Cheerfully child-chased by my little girl.
She checks her time-clock with puffs of air-breath
Two puffs near the heat of noon, but
As evening approaches more breaths are needed.
Souls of flowers float away - like us -
And are reborn in some spot not proud
Maybe rough surroundings, maybe dust,
Wherever admittance is allowed :
Weed fields, dusty building sites, if they are able.
Cracks in walls, rooftop gutters, a stable.
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