When day has slipped its foot
into the bath of night
and stars call down
to whatever bits of light are left
pooling at the edge,
then the ground shimmers
and yellow rises flashing
as if each
petal of the dandelions
has taken wing,
the blinking
lights rise bright
against the darkness
dancing a quest for life.
Some stay moored to the earth,
blinking back, twinkling
like tiny candles
showing the direction home.
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