The Whispering Tuft

I hopped out into the quiet courtyard and noticed a round dandelion clock swaying beside the old brick path. It looked like a fragile globe of white down. I paused a little distance away, watching its silky tufts tremble each time the gentle morning air stirred. Creeping close on quiet feet, I leaned forward and puffed a soft breath against the stem. Three slender seeds lifted free, floating lazily across the cool damp soil before settling on a broad green hosta leaf. I sat very still, pleased to watch them rest without disturbing a single plume.