Dandelions

Growing like a weed, I remember
In childhood.
Now I stand in green grass with winter-pale feet
Dying like a tree returning to earth
By degrees,
Stepping down,
Disembodied, disconnected
From the cycle of living.

Around me: dandelions.
Profuse, ebullient
Is anything so unthinkingly alive
As these?
Children's voices rise and fall
On spring lawns all around me.

I chose barrenness. And here I am, solitary
My seeds to every quarter flown
Fallow, directionless, alone
Seeking sanctuary from the litany of storms
Howling in a springless heart.

I look down, seeking silence. I am
Surrounded by faces turned all together
To the sun.