Dandelion dreaming

I dreamed I was a dandelion
brilliantly green
crowned in golden plume
spring wind gently pushing
in nameless merriment
often spoken by seed summer lifted
and floated among bees and errant wasp.
Soon seasons tilted hours through days
rains kissed face lifted
and soon I changed;
naked, frightened and bare
a weed, stranger amongst
buttercups and grasses.
Then as if nature waited for despair’s
long embrace
hope rose out in feathers of white
I became many
holding fast to the body of age
until wind came again
a gentle lover to wisp away
me, as many, into her arms
spread into the world of the living
little hopes with
wings unbendingly light
searching soft earth to bare myself again.
Waking, sun touched my face.
Pillow soft beneath my head
wind at the sill calling my view;
a dandelion seed caught against the
screen of my human abode.
Sliding pane against givens
I plucked it and set it to the air
softly.
It traversed on roads I could not see
And wondered I this:
was I seeing myself
or was my soul seeing me.

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6 thoughts on “Dandelion dreaming”

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