To our neighbor at the corner

(and with apologies to fellow New Jersey native William Carlos Williams)

This is just to say
that I am sorry I blew
those dandelions across your lawn

It is just that they
were so tempting,
six silver spheres swaying on slender stems

How
could I resist?

They called to me each day for a week, dancing
atop their slim stalks in the sun
pleading to be strewn, set free

And so I did
tromp across your
(meticulously groomed but for their presence) grass
plucking
one after the other
sending them scattering with a wish and a breath

Forgive me for spreading those seeds of the sunniest of weeds
across your emerald expanse
(Though it isn't as though I stomped on your spirea or plundered your pachysandra)

Truth be told, I am far more sorry
to have been surprised, mid-blow, too far off the sidewalk to pretend innocence
by your garage door opening, heralding your early return home
than by the crime itself

Now, I wonder, when you pass by as I wait
for the school bus on the corner
in front of your house
will you still wave?