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Dandelion

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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