Dandylions

They were here no more than that more even than I should know things I should know about the field and how they grow. Stalks tall and green and long and crying. Their tops as white as snow. Knowing some are yellow each head upturned that turns upon the wind and how it blows. From where the hand comes streaking up moving up so very slowly up until it comes across the top and rubbed it off and off it came. As if in a breath or in a oceans breach they flew from lips intent apart and popping tops on stems are pulled. It's why the milk comes slowly seeping out and why the seeds flew far away.