damn dandelions

lessons in a language
I never learned.
must have missed that day
when they taught
the tongue of temporality.

now, nature notices
my deficiency.
damn dandelions
taunting,
flaunting their inability
to hold on
yet somehow still
rooted, remembered, resilient.

it’s just a season
the new buds whisper,
hold loosely
as they flutter in the breeze
this too shall pass
falling, falling

if only
I (the roots, the rock) reply
envious of their freedom
to move on
thriving in change
forgetting just enough

if only
I reply
cracking