Just like that,
first thing in the morning
after the spring rains,
dandelion darlings of the meadow,
golden manes on display
for that bright brief moment
outshining the mountaintops
in the first two weeks of summer,
stand tall to be adored
by all creation
And then,
hair white, distinguished,
they revel
in the attention bestowed
upon them
by wild winds and playful children
tussling their stallion manes
And then,
like failing Caesars,
heads barren and bent
to the earth,
they droop and curl,
nevermore
to be doted upon
or first to be picked