by Archer Dougherty
Blowing the white dandelion seeds
Silently tells the time.
- a girl, with worn out shoes and her head through the door;
Small soft seeds placed in a small green bowl
Kept for later.
The sapphire morning in its slow unfurling
- rising, soaring! A timeless burning
A pink evening.
The door has shut of its own accord.
- the clock, now; amber mechanic, a furrowed brow,
…the velvet shadows wrap around
An empty bowl.
The heavy rustle, a whisper creaking – and a sleeping
Dog; black and silent on the floor.