The dandelion man worked the
acres with well-worn implements,

some left over from relatives re-
siding in the town cemetery. He

would go for walks in the cemetery
thinking of poems he would pen

later and instead of asking the
grounds keepers to put some

herbicide down to kill the dande-
lions, he would pluck some, and

lay them on the headstones of
family members. If he found a

dandelion that had gone to seed,
he would carefully pluck it, hold

it close to his lips, breathe deeply,
hold his breath and then blow as

hard as he could on the seeds
scattering them all over those

headstones and a few of family
friends. He would chuckle

thinking about his grandchild
doing exactly the same thing.