Picking Up a Dandelion

Before dawn,

I pick you up,

then bring you closer.

My fingers slowly roll

over your body,

removing seeds attached to you,

free them into the air.

I hear you sigh

as if breezes swirl at the bottom

of mountains. Through wheels

of twilight, I see you naked and fresh.

A shadow, and now a thin split cocoon,

your face opens to the sky,

then turns to me, shivering in joy.