Gone to Seed

We sing of dandelions
gone to seed--white
fluff in air, tipping and
sliding on wayward breezes.

Yellow light filters
through star-shaped
filaments--cornflower blue
explodes behind them.
Sky as backdrop. Sky as
safety net. Wild promise
of what remains
when one of us leaves
before we are ready
to have them go.

We chase them, catch
them in our hands,
make wishes only we
can know. Let them
go...the wishes
still ringing in our ears
like the songs we sing
to the dead. Songs we sing
to ourselves in their absence.