I borrowed a prompt list from leanwellback and yarnofariadne and I don't know how much of it I'll get through, but today's actually produced something? I haven't written a poem in forever, but I sometimes think up some lines, get in the shower, sit down and can't be bothered to type them in. This time I did. Growth! Or something.

#5 dandelion

these ephemeral things
we were taught to wish on: the
flash of light, the flickering fire, the
keratin, metaphorical enamel -- each hope
a snuffler, the smoke
folding into the fabric we breathe in.
It's in the last exhale that their aim is clear:
to come back in a year, ready
to scatter.