mistake was light and easy in my hand,
seed meant to be borne upon the wind.
did not have to bury it or throw,
open up my hand and let it go.
mistake was dry and small and without weight,
breeze quickly snatched it from my sight,
even had I wanted to prevent,
could tell me where it went.
did not think on the mistake again,
the spring came, soft, and full of rain,
in the yard such dandelions grew
bloomed and closed, and opened up, and blew.
© Modern Poetry Association. From Archaic Smile,
Evansville Press; originally printed in Poetry;
by permission of the author.