Watching Dandelions Grow

 
Above me, the sky is painting
in swirls of grey and white
on a canvas of the brightest blue.

In the distance I hear the symphonies
of Chopin and Strauss
played upon the rustling leaves

and in the fields the gentle breeze
plays catch-me-if-you-can,
chasing itself among the hay,

While swallows gliding lazily 
hang suspended like puppets
on strings we cannot see.

And me, I lay here dreaming
flat on my back among the grass
just watching dandelions grow. 


 july 2003

 

Included in:



 Poetry Pages: A Collection of Voicef From Around The World 
 Volume II