Dandelion

I want to be a dandelion

blooming early as a sign of spring

and late as Autumn chills

equally happy in barren spots 

where nothing should grow

as in lush gardens

where no one wants me to grow

feral and hard to kill

I want to soak up the sun

in fields of grass

befriending the bees 

living in harmony

with the unseen world of tiny things

I want to kiss the noses

of those who sniff me

and have my aroma 

always remind them

of happy memories

I want my color

to streak down the arms

of those who create art

out of whatever they can find

I want to hold hands with my dandelion sisters 

to crown the heads of the whimsical ones

I want to become jams and jellies

spread on toast shared with friends

I want to become teas and tinctures

used to heal and comfort 

I want to bring delight to children

both in my vibrancy 

when they gift me to their mothers

and in my death

when I become a million wishes

launched into the breezes by their breath

and land in unknown corners

where I get to start anew