Atonement Harvester

No one seems to notice the dandelion that grows

in the cracks of downtown Gano Street.

It lives on despite the odd lights cast from the nearby river

under the inconsistent flashes from a crosswalk box.

The artist by the walkway paints the cracks in the road

but ignores the growth, a stain of yellow on the asphalt

hanging on the edge of the concrete curb, as if

to flag a taxi ride to Wickenden Avenue.

The nurse reads a note while waiting at the light

and doesn't notice the weed leaning on her shoe.

Not one seems to notice the dandelion that grows

in the cracks of downtown Gano Street.

Rain, the dandilion dances the bobbing buoy

while the slick cars spray the civilian heels.

The architect mumbles angrily under the umbrella

crushing the dandelion with a size 5 1/2 shoe.

No one notices the dandilion grows

in the cracks of Gano Street.

A pauper boy sits alone by the crosswalk box

and notices a wilting weed covered in a sphere of hope.

The dandelion sacrifices itself for a wish in faithful silence

scattering off to fulfill the dream of a vagabond.