A Dandelion Clock

I pushed through the screen door again, stepping out into the midday air and following the sidewalk down toward the edge of 25th Avenue. In a tall wooden planter by the corner, a single dandelion had gone entirely to seed, floating like a white, feathery sphere above the soil. I climbed gently onto the low wooden rim to reach it. Leaning close, I puffed out a quiet breath against its fluffy crown. A swirl of delicate parachutes detached and drifted into the noon breeze, leaving behind a bumpy little green button. I kept one stray fluff caught safely on my sleeve.