Pavement Bloom

The sky is a flat, gray sheet.

Everything feels muted,

the concrete cold,

the air heavy with

what isn't rain.

Then, a sudden punch

of raw yellow.

A single dandelion,

stubborn,

pushing its head

through a spiderweb crack

in the asphalt.

Its petals,

some bent,

some bruised at the edges,

still scream

brightness.

The stem, thin and pale,

a green effort

against the dark,

holds it up.

A fragile torch

in the dull,

a small, sharp thing

that doesn't know

it shouldn't be here.