Today i looked down and saw a dandelion that had lost the yellow flower to become a puff of magnificent something, whatever they become, but a ball of it, perfectly shaped, perfectly round, perfectly divine. i reached out with my fingers and snipped it at the base which is a wonderful plasticy substance with white goo that drips out when you snip it. why nature developed this goo i'll never know, but i love it as a gorgeous detail that is always there, and yet, somehow, you'd forgotten about it. that's what makes the perfect things truly perfect, is that they don't try to be perfect, they just are. if they tried, they'd surely have been stepped on by a lady in heels, mowed down by blades, or had been picked much too early by a kid in first grade. so it's time would have never been granted, and the most perfect thing is, it's still there because it's supposed to be there. at this time, this place. and for this moment, it is part of what makes the world spin, the winds blow, the waters rise and the rest, as they say, is history. because by tomorrow, a wind may come, a dog may run, or a kid will fall and it won't be so perfectly perfect for much longer...so it basks in the sun and enjoys it's days of glory.
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