Shaggy faces tilt to the sun, toothed leaves splay.
Dandelions: one man’s weed,
another man’s wildflower.
Like brass buttons they fasten down our lawn.
But soon, blossoms shrivel;
petals turn ochre, then amber-brown.
Tiny wombs swell, and seeds emerge
in perfect spheres. Puffballs!
Purse your lips in breathy exhale,
let seeds rise and swirl: ballet troupes,
ensembles in grand jete, pirouette,
toes pointed, weightless and ethereal,
starched white tutus translucent.
Each strives to lift higher, travel further.
Seeds of a new generation
settle, ecstatically, on my neighbor’s lawn.
Poem by Ann Howells
Ann Howells edited Illya’s Honey for eighteen years. Recent books are: So Long As We Speak Their Names (Kelsay Books, 2019) and Painting the Pinwheel Sky (Assure Press, 2020). Chapbooks include: Black Crow in Flight, Editor’s Choice in Main Street Rag’s 2007 competition and Softly Beating Wings, 2017 William D. Barney Chapbook Competition winner (Blackbead Books). Her work appears in small press and university publications including Plainsongs, Schuylkill Valley Journal, and San Pedro River Review.