dandelion clock

noah asked me today, after hearing the story, if this means we're back to the old kate.

she never shared her heart; she was a stone.

laughing, we threw back our beers to familiar bitterness.

but, no. not the old kate. it's more like a dandelion clock, that was blown by a child. something was asked to grow and then it died.

the gust scattered seeds of hope all across this tried terrain. they burrow now, but its still only autumn.

there will be another Spring.