I speak like a child
Blows the fuzz
Off a dandelion:
Clumsily, with abandon,
As if the weeds are infinite
Between where I stand
And the backyard fence.
Behold my path
Of botanical destruction
And feel the sinking
That comes with knowing
All is spent.
More will grow, of course.
They will be spent
Just as quickly,
Just as carelessly,
Without a wish.