Löwenzähne (Lion's teeth)
The fields are pocked with yellow.
It happened overnight.
What a beautiful nuisance looking up at us.
Only she cannot see them smile.
They are weeds to her.
Pull them up.
Rake them down.
Replace the grass, if you must.
I'm careful where I place my step.
I'm sensitive that way.
Like walking on eggshells in a mine field and avoiding broken glass.
While taking off a soggy boot, I find
a prisoner in my sole.
A little strand of yellowness
longing to be whole.
The broken petals of my friend
are too lost to mend.
I can only wish more fields to smile at her
until the very end.