Sitting in my car at the light
waiting for the light to change.
The wind picked up, signaling the beginning of the dance.
One by one, two by two, group by group,
each slender dancer wearing their little frilly white tutu
came to display their marvelous routines and I was their captive audience member.
twirling
fluttering
pirouetting
leaping
bounding
gliding
skipping
soaring
they flew around me, as if an invitation was being made for me to join.
All I could do was watch and marvel at how synchronized they became.
Finally, the wind died down and the dance was over.
The light turned green and I continued on my way.
Maybe I will join the dandelion dance on another day.
Writing From The Heart 
Loved this! I tried guessing–incorrectly–who or what it was that you saw. Maybe a group of preschoolers? Some sort of runners in a dress up race? I’m so literal! Was great to see simple dandelions from your perspective for a moment.
Stunning! I absolutely love your poem. I have often found myself lost in a wind dance š
I loved this! I felt like I was in the car with you watching the dandelion dance! I know some people think of them as weeds, but they are beautiful. Jackie http://familytrove.blogspot.com/
That was beautiful! It IS a dance, all you need is a bit of a wind. Hopefully they will dance far away from my yard. š