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