Poem by Derek N. Otsuji

And with a puff the dandelion clock
	released its silver tufted fist of seeds,
the winged minutes lifted by a boy’s wish.
	Across the lawn’s green hours they dispersed,
a scattered flock—no, a lofty airborne
	force of paratroopers softly storming
the innocent grass. A late sun ray picked
	a drifting filament now blown afield
and the boy’s eye followed as it rose, sailed
	then slowly sank from view, and with its grieved
extinguishing released a sigh—the ball
	blasted, the seconds flown. At night
 awake still, he waits for the return, when
	boots on the porch steps come thundering home.