Undistinguished old dandelion!
Your yellow is predictably
Only the color of scrambled eggs.
Your fringe-petals have become tacky.
You are merely like a little stilled hedgehog.
Now though a robin alertly hops by
Somehow its beak is not yellow --
And the color of its breast and stomach
Is merely the color of those four fallen leaves
Covered and uncovered by wind-stirred tree-bough shadows.
Taller than grass blades, little white daisies reach;
An unmoving beetle's copper body kindles in sunlight;
A black fly making ablutions on my light-grey shirt
Disappears the moment I shift. Now I recall
Dandelions like large-headed mushrooms
Fork-lifted by young hands.
Jonathan Bracker’s poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry Northwest, Writer's Digest, and other periodicals; in several small press anthologies; and in seven small press collections. His Concerning Poetry: Poems About Poetry was published this year by the Upper Hand Press.