Dandelion Adieu

On meadows a-green
with visions of eye--
'tis late July
where hot sunspots
bake poppy-cakes.
and spikenard stakes;
lavender reaching for skies.

Yellow, then gone-- dandelion;
little balls of wool
spin past as winds grasp
wildflower fields
and tufted parachutes
carry seeds aloft, for the drop
in dirt, in Earth; tombs for blooms

while next season waits to awake.