Whenever I see a host of dandelion clocks gusting by in the breeze, I think of a whirling ballet of tiny dancers, twirling and spinning in a joyful celebration of nature, and of life itself, however brief it may be.
Like a fairy ballerina
Dancing softly through the trees,
Gliding silently through Summer
On the laughter of the breeze.
Waltzing gaily ‘cross the meadows
As the hours just flutter by,
Twirling swiftly through the woodlands
Like a spotlight from the sky,
Pirouetting round their branches
In a cloud of gauzy dreams,
Rising gently through the shadows
On the sun’s auroral beams.
Drifting long with other dancers
From this ballet of the trees,
Like a host of fairy stardust
Scattered far through fields and leas,
Till the heavens’ sapphire summer
Is transformed to autumn grey.
Now they’re gone, like cloudy snowflakes,
Having danced their lives away.