dandelion season

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The dandelions know:
the gentle breeze
threatens revolution.

Earth’s cycle repeats
in endless motion:

bloom and scatter,
bloom and scatter.

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Helpless I hold
my breath and wait,
anticipate undoing,
soon stripped bare
while you prepare
for release
into becoming.

Just yesterday
I grew you;
now I begin
to lose you.

Inside the walls
of my sturdy sheath,
wrapped tight beneath,
your small seed swelled
till I couldn’t tell
where I ended
and you began.

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Once unfolded,
we burst golden,
layers linked
interwoven,
brilliant petals waving
together, blossoms
welcoming spring.

Post-debut, we
again withdrew,
for just a moment
hidden. A brief
eclipse, nature’s magic
trick: time turned us
inside out.

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My motherheart holds
tight your hands
your starlit strands
alight, potential ripe.
Encircled I gaze
within your web amazed
caught in your cottonspun glory.

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Quivering arrows launch,
soar free in all directions.
Each wind-blown slip
leaves my soul pinpricked
awestruck in proud reflection.

My love,
as you glide
into boundless sky
all I can do
is watch you fly.

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