Dandelion as Poet

Maybe if the Hindus are right,
I’ll come back as a dandelion,
Yellow and bright, close to the ground,
Growing in a few days tall, solitary,
The first of spring to discover
Kinship with wind and breeze.

I’d like to be cheeky, shameless & yellow,
Happily calling attention to myself as if
Nature herself loved me most of all.