Dandelions in Brooklyn

The lion's teeth send sprawling cracks trough walks
and stoops across the neighborhood.  Their manes
of shaggy gold are raised as if to talk
about their humble pride of having gained
this meager rooting.  Even grasses faint
at thinking of the dandelion's home.
Uplifted on the sea-borne zephyrs, plaits
of silver threaded seeds take flight and roam
from place to place.  These pilot seeds are wished
upon like stars to carry children's dreams.
Transiting wishes carry hopes nourished
by summer's pop of golden weed.  High screams
of child-delight float up into the sky.
We should, like dandelions, dare to fly.