Do you remember
how the first dandelions
of last summer danced?
How they cracked open
barren ground, splayed
paint-bright petals in
honeyed sunshine,
basking in blows of
the soft, balmy breeze?
We uprooted those
weeds the next day,
but they, so unwanted
and trampled upon,
burst open again
a mere week later,
blooming with such
a fervent ferocity
that I wished, this time,
to let them stay a while.
But gone they were,
once again, by dawn’s
light and my brothers’
sweat-laden backs,
only surfacing this
summer day on
a neighbor’s lawn.
Ah, I hope that
their kids decide to
become the keepers
of them, these
bittersweet, brilliant
strokes of resilience.