Dandelion

lying in the grass
on my stomach
elbows down, chin in hands

talking to a dandelion

It wants to know
why that bright popping yellow
is an eyesore, to the world

I don't know, I said

Maybe because dandelions
aren't hard work
you're just there, eternal

the dandelion cried

I understood this.

Is the world we live in
set to see beauty
only in things that cost
or come from indelible effort?

Are we not allowed
to be awed
by something that the planet
just gives us

or asks little from us for?

I left the dandelion there
in the corner of my yard
and never cut him down

and when he turned gray
as all things eventually do
and his seeds were cast to the wind

I smiled a little
knowing there would be hundreds more because of him