Dandelion Clocks


Dandelion Clocks
For Annie Kaya

In my garden, she crawls small
amongst tall grass, dandelion clocks
like fluffy moons above her head.
She blows and silky plumes
stick to her lips, hover in her chuckle,
dappled wishes, heartbeats of delight,
before the clutter of words.

Her fingertips, as small as bluebell cups,
trace round and round the garden of my
cradling palm, unravelling my lifeline.
And drifting dandelion seeds
count time backwards, replanting me
in the red earth of my own beginning.

© Seni Seneviratne

Published in Wild Cinnamon and Winter Skin, Peepal Tree Press, 2007