![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3lt1ytzx6GZPGT6bYiOxgEWRjJbkhUqBUtEBewJb260fljqdJtTr9ytpNnUbb0796ZBDZl0sL81Qdcqp6MMuDQ3c3jt5Kjn-VZQpIh80qL6O06psUdFJa7tZ8L0_XEim95G8/s200/dandelion.jpg)
I wrote this poem in honor of all the babies I haven't seen about town for six months. Suddenly they're everywhere after being sheltered in cars and indoors.
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Other people's babies stroll by,
in hats of petals
in pink and blue sky.
With gappy smiles and shark-like teeth,
sunny dandelions,
rubbery, round cheeks.
They spring forth with the crocuses,
the warm, the tulips,
and the trees' first buds.
A moment so hard and so sweet
in its beauty stuns.
Then releases, free.
Before you walk on, alone, but
weightless, to seek signs
of the peonies.
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Tricia's on the roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect. A Happy Friday and a Happy Spring to you all.