The sky is literally a thing.
I’m not sure you know
how to knock on one door
and get one right answer.
Dandelions are seldom alone
but when they are, they align
themselves by fences, grow
as large as in Allegra commercials
before those could tell you
what they were selling.
But dandelions, real ones,
aren’t selling anything
but themselves
to bees
and anyone else who knows
where to find the key,
how to come in.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
From a prompt to write about “one,” at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
Dandies may be simple, but they choose their company carefully, as Emily did.
I love this dandelion poem. Especially love your opening lines……..
Dandelions are my favorite flower. They know so much!
Our eight-year-old granddaughter had the honor of picking the first two dandelions in our yard. The first had gone to seed and she blew the seeds to the wind. The second was a nice yellow and that one she saved for her mom.
..
So often, so difficult to find the key, perhaps thedandilion holds part of the secret,,
I love it. It’s like a new mythology you’ve created. (Backed, perhaps, by scientific fact, if it’s true about the lone dandelions.)
Such a treat to read your poetry again. You have a unique style that kind of grabs me by the throat in awe.
Wow. Thank you so much, Kerry! Nice to see you again, too — I just visited your blog. 🙂
I like this. Am looking forward to their return, en masse or just one.
What an inspiring poem. I loved it.
Oh, thank you!
Lovely!
Bouncy surrealism. Love it.
Thanks, Paul!