I see a dandelion in perfect bloom,
not one fluff of symmetry yet
diffused from this lone flower —
I’ll not diminish it to weed.
It waits for me on this shiny, bright
day. The sky is a canopy of that perfect
blue you imagine for picnics and lazy
afternoons floating down clear rivers
or walking in the sun along the bank
snatching stones awaiting under glistening
waves, tiny treasures that so quickly
lose luster when devoid of water,
the current that dances like an artist’s
brush. You return the rocks, they slip
through the surface, nestle
again on silt and sand, becoming
gems displayed for all who care
to see the beauty of simple pleasures.
This day is waiting, a few months will pass —
it is there, and I will be glad to walk
in it, take my time, inhale a new
season, and appreciate the warmth
of summer’s precious gifts.
—C.L. Fisher, March 2020
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