The sunlight shines bright
On the little yellow flower
Reflecting in form and color
The sun up above
The flower lies low
To the ground
Not proud, this one
But knowing, knowing.
The stem reaches upward
Lifting the flower
Attracting the gaze
Of gardener, butterfly, and child
All are pulled in
And the blossom changes
Closes in on itself
It's purpose fulfilled
The stem grows higher, longer
Now full and heavy
The transformation nearly complete
It seeks warmth and elevation
Then it opens again
Not full of yellow gold this time
But snowy, downy white
Fine, gossamer strands
They encircle the launching pad
In a delicate, perfect sphere
Waiting to carry the seeds
To fertile ground
And with the careful pluck
Of a child's hand
The stem is picked
And brought to the lips
Thus, with a gentle puff
The helicopter seeds
Float along, slowly drifting
To begin again
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