Dandelion

Even the most
rigidly cared for lawns
have a few yellow-faced dandelions

Hibernation

Blown wishes that soar away

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Dream Sprout

On the tip of a pin, a dream balances
Swaying bodily with the wind
And gripping tightly with little toes
But when the gale grows too great
It leaps and parachutes
And drifts like dandelion fluff
To settle once again
When the storm has passed