Emissary from Above

A shining mote of star-life
Settled on a dandelion
Gone to flossy seed.

Not knowing what it held,
I plucked the dandelion,
Raised it to my lips,
And freed the tiny sails.

They blew across the field,
Scattering the stellar note
Into a net of energy
Spread out on the breeze.

Soon a constellation grew
Among the modest weeds.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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