Dandelion
Seeds
Flock through the sky like
Silky little faeries and he knows he’s
Looking out a window when he longs
To be out
Side-- lying side by side with the flower beds that he wished existed out
Side of his mind There’s a
A little pecking that tells him the clock is
Going tick
Tock
Tick
Tock tick ticktick
Like the patter of rain against a mound of
Wet
Dirt
On which he’d
Like to sing his song---
His Haywire Song,
When the drizzle cast
Rainbows on the chipped auburn wood
Through the gold that pooled
In the pocket
Of shining sky, and he’d write without
Worry of the breeze that might run its fingers through the pages
Of his book and he’d smile through the sweat for
Three months if only he
Weren’t
So anxious of its end.