The morning sun shines brightly
Bathing in its gold, sprightly
Little seeds of which
The dandelion fights to enrich.
The yellow from this boisterous weed,
Now replaced by tiny seed.
To attest to its own age
A grey now rests upon this stage.
To happy seed the days are long
And with their bothers sing a song
Of when they’re older, oh the day,
When in the breeze they’ll laugh and play.
“Us tiny lives upon this stem
Shall in the earth become a gem.
A life be born from life, and thus
With this cycle starts the fuss.”
But, the seeds sway unaware
In the wind that soon shall tear
Them from their golden, happy days,
To a dark and harsher phase.
With a swoosh of feathery tail
In a bundle they do sail
Through the expanse, by and by,
Past the silhouettes and sky.
All to land amongst the,
Stretching far as anyone can see,
Grassy plain and rolling hill
Ready to, their job, fulfill.
Now looking round them here and there
To see their brother’s fluttering tail
And sigh in relief to be together,
In the coming days to weather.
A bird in flight spots waving grey
And swoops its way down where there lay
The brother seed among the dirt,
Then opens wide, the seed to insert.
A brother lost to destiny’s weave
The little seed hasn’t time to grieve
For if he doesn’t fulfill this duty
There dies a necessary beauty.
Play forgotten and grief aside
It will, by nature’s rules, abide
And spread its roots, ever growing,
Because to nature its life owing.
The days pass, as all have done,
The little seed, its battle won
As through the cold dirt there
Peeks a green tip into the air.
For the seed the war is through,
But now the dandelion too
Must face new danger on his own;
For coming seeds his life was grown.
