Catching a little wind’s unrest,
The dandelion-crests dissolve,
Where swooping wings of air involve
And lift them to a scattered quest.
Snared in the tangled zephyr-coil,
They try the day to hidden ends—
The messengers that Beauty sends
With words of waking to the soil.
Printed from: eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/681
Printed on: November 22, 2024