a flurry of punches in poetry

a blizzard
on the first day of June
unearthly unreal
a million white puffs in the sky
but not snow
dandelion seeds instead

a thunderstorm coming
the wind whipping up
near ninety degrees and
humidity higher than that
the perfect confluence
for the dandelion seeds
to flurry all at once
blinding the drivers
the summer day strollers
all of us at once

not snowflakes that will melt
but messages
prayers to take root as a weed
somewhere
thoughts in hopes of transmission
hail-mary passes toward
some far-off field
in hopes of growing anew

I felt like the dandelion seeds
wished like I could too blow away
ten million times and maybe once
maybe twice find fertile ground
to be reborn as something better
to live refreshed
but there were errands to run
there were things to do and
so I went home
still myself in the storm