A Lion's Tooth

Dandelion? A name that sounds like a roaring predator, even if it arrived in mere shreds of yellow fluff. The midday sun began baking the white paint on the sill, drying the scent right out of the breeze. I nudged my spine back toward the shadowy corner behind the curtain fold. That yellow petal from dawn was still lying near the window sash, looking frail against the white molding. Leaning my front edge over it, I prodded the crumb of dandelion with a sharp corner, rolling it deeper into the crevice between the wood and the glass where the sun couldn't bleach it away. If it carries the tooth of a lion, it belongs in my cache.