Dandelion Sun (opening poem from Fledge published by Maytree Press July 31st 2020)

 

A child’s sun finds a dream in young eyes.

In blinks of dandelion eclipses,

refracted light reflects on retinas

holding warmth in ragged leaves

below a flower standing up and out.

 

Ryegrass and foxtail for company,

a golden head of petals,

swaying and slight,

is there and gone and there again.

 

The wings of friends unfold to test the air

with thoughts aloft in stretching skies,

days that lift and soar with matchless views.

They seek what hawks perceive as truth

yet still count the faces that look familiar.

 

And dipping hands in search of clues,

a box of sights, of scent and sound,

they choose a shade and wear a skin,

fit in and lose themselves as one of many.

 

But this child blinks dandelion eclipses;

hawkbit tinctures bathing open eyes

with picture sun now placed behind an ear

while looking up and out.

 

A trust in truth is not weighed as cost

and light in ragged leaves endures.

Though slight,

as scythes descend and sweep the dream,

it will not fail at dusk.