Dandelion Snow Storm Poem by Martin Ward

Sweltering in the summer sun
of a dandelion snow storm.
This child stands
with hands and arms
in crucifix against the breeze
which is laden with clocks.
I close my eyes to guard against
far-from-frozen flakes
that might force the use
of spittle on a corner
of a handkerchief,
or suffer scutty blinks.
But out of wonder,
I cannot resist this sight;
this Biblical flight from nature.
Unlike the thistle down
or gossamer thread
of rosebay willow herb,
these parachutes float
uniform and upright:
regimental wonders, that glide,
though do not fight.
Dandelion children,
cast out kindly
to find a home,
in pavement cracks
or to be hoed
from manicured beds.
How many will grow?
Like grains that land
upon fertile fields
or blow to barren
concrete streets:
each as the fabled mustard seed.
They fly without help
of human hands,
save those of children
who flap with joy
and toy with nature,
with nature's thanks.