Dandelion Hopping

To the man who made me notice the bees.

I've never seen a dandelion spider...

an effigy of lemonade,

limbs dripped in washed out sunshine,

toes transparent like a faded sunrise.

Hopping from the trellis,

ascending to the sky;

a travelling circus of

little workers,

kissing thanks with feet

that land on tiny suns.

A bouquet that's decaled

with "He loves me not's,"

"She loves me so" and a

drifting barrage of tiny wishes...

carried on the breeze and the backs of bees

from dandelion suns to homes of honeycomb.